


Cross-Pollination

by amythis



Series: Botanical Journals [2]
Category: Three's Company
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 28,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26813221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythis/pseuds/amythis
Summary: Janet Wood's diary entries covering her first six months with Jack as roommate, with some chronology-shifting.
Relationships: Helen Roper/Stanley Roper
Series: Botanical Journals [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784473
Kudos: 1





	1. June 19, 1977

Sunday, June 19, 1977

Dear Brand-New Diary,

Oh God, so much happened last week! Just in the last 48 hours. I'll go in order as much as I can, to try to make sense of it all.

Eleanor's wedding at City Hall was fine. One of Ted's old buddies was his best man, and Chrissy and I were of course bridesmaids, but that was it for the wedding party. Then again, Eleanor had never been the big-church-wedding kind of girl, and she just wanted something quick and simple. Especially considering how very pregnant she was. Yes, was, but I'll get to that.

We had the reception at the apartment, which Chrissy and I both left work a little early to decorate. Chrissy had to fake a migraine, but I just told my manager, Mr. Murphy, one of my roommates was getting married. He even let me take some bouquets that were on sale, as long as I told everyone about the Arcade Flower Shop. Usually, he's a jerk, so I was pleasantly surprised.

At first, it was just a nice quiet little gathering, but more and more people showed up as the evening and then night went on. Normally, I'm sort of the bouncer, channeling my Nonna Wood's little-but-toughness. This time, I was having too good a time to want to police the party, so I didn't kick out the loudest people and the gatecrashers for once. How could I have known how it would change my life?

OK, that sounds overly dramatic, but however this turns out, I've very recently made some decisions that are as huge as moving out to California from Indiana a year ago.

Getting back to the reception, I made the dubious decision to have some of the punch Chrissy made from every form of alcohol in the apartment, including what guests brought over. It tasted weird but good, a blend of sweet, bitter, and sour, both fruity and frothy. I kept going back for more, even though I've never been much of a drinker.

After that, my memories of the night get very fuzzy. I remember an awful girl who kept giggling and trying to do a strip tease. Chrissy has confirmed my fear that that awful girl was me. Luckily, I didn't do more than expose my bra before passing out. Chrissy and Patty, Eleanor's old roommate before me, carried me into the bedroom and changed me into my blue "zero" sleepshirt. They made sure that Larry and any other sketchy guys didn't disturb me, so at least I had no worse consequences from drinking than a killer hangover the next morning.

By the time they got back to the living room, there was a fuss going on in the kitchen, although it took them awhile to hear it over the loud music. It turned out that Eleanor was going into labor and trying to discourage her new husband from delivering the baby on the table. They were both drunk, since she figured it was too late to harm the baby, and they were arguing furiously but incoherently. Finally, Patty found someone sober and trustworthy enough to drive the Philipses to the hospital, this friend of a friend named Doug.

Some time after the last guest left (or so Chrissy thought), she was woken by the phone. I slept through it, but she got up and answered it in case it was news about Eleanor. It was. The labor went surprisingly quickly, and she had a boy, seven pounds, eight ounces. According to Doug, mother and son were sleeping and healthy, although Ted looked a little shell-shocked.

Chrissy had drunk much less than I had, so she felt fine the next morning, especially after the happy news about Eleanor. So she decided to tidy up. We had arranged for a girl to come over to look at the apartment at noonish, and it was already ten.

I woke to the sound of vacuuming. I dragged myself out of bed and into the living room. I told Chrissy to have some respect for the dying, because I felt like death warmed over.

She filled me in on some of what I missed, telling me the rest later. I was and am happy for Eleanor about the baby, but I wish I'd been able to tell her goodbye. Maybe I can get some time off work to go visit her in the hospital before she, Ted, and the baby leave on the honeymoon. (And, yes, I know how strange that sounds.) I couldn't go yesterday because there was too much going on. (Which, yes, I still haven't gotten up to, but be patient.) I'd visit today but the buses don't run as often on Sundays.

Or am I just making excuses? Chrissy thinks marriage and motherhood are wonderful, no matter what order they happen in, and no matter who with. But I'm still not convinced that this is the right happily ever after for Eleanor. Still, yeah, it's her life and I wish her the best.

Anyway, I blamed Chrissy's punch for turning my tongue gray and the ladle green. As she drew a bath, she defended her punch. She wasn't looking at the tub at first, so it took her a moment to realize that there was a man sleeping in it!

She went and got me, but neither of us recognized him. Well, OK, he did seem vaguely familiar, but I haven't been able to place him yet. Maybe we met at another party, months ago, when Eleanor and I used to go to more parties and Chrissy hadn't yet moved in.

He didn't look dangerous, especially asleep, but you never know. I didn't have any weapons handy, so I took the most lethal thing in the living room: the ladle. Then we cautiously returned to the bathroom.

I wasn't sure how or even if we should wake him. I suppose we could've called the police, but it probably would've sounded like a prank call. I did consider going and getting Mr. Roper, but I was already dreading seeing him because of our loud party. (I remember him banging on his ceiling, our floor, with what sounded like a broom handle.)

Chrissy had been so surprised to see someone in our tub that she left the water running. So the tub was filling up around the stranger, who didn't seem to notice, but then anyone who can doze in a tub is probably a pretty heavy sleeper. It wasn't until he rolled over that he woke up and realized. He tried to turn off the shower taps but just turned them on. Then he had to turn off all four taps. When he saw that he wasn't alone, he tried to cover himself with his hands, before realizing he wasn't naked. (I probably would've called the cops and/or Mr. Roper if he was.)

Then came introductions. I've recently broken Chrissy of telling people she meets, "It's Christmas." This was especially good yesterday morning, since our uninvited guest was already disoriented enough. So she called herself Chrissy and didn't explain that that's a nickname.

His name is Jack Tripper and he almost tripped stepping out of the tub. He said he came with a friend who knew one of the gatecrashers. (Despite his wet clothes, hair, and body, he had a dry sense of humor.) He shook Chrissy's hand and my ladle. (He definitely paid more attention to Chrissy, more about that later.)

Although he showed up at the party uninvited, without even knowing Ted or Eleanor or the occasion, he hadn't intended to sleep in our bathtub. But he had some of the punch and passed out. I asked him later why he wasn't lying on the floor and he thought maybe his brain told him to take a shower to reinvigorate, but then after he stepped into the tub, he just wanted to lie down. I'm guessing it happened pretty late at the party, since no one noticed when they used the sink or the toilet. Then again, Jack had drawn the shower curtain around himself, which is why Chrissy didn't notice him right off.

He was very surprised when Chrissy told him to take his clothes off. She just meant because they were wet. This is how she sometimes leads guys on without meaning to. I understood her of course, and I tried to think of what Jack could change into. We couldn't have a naked man in our bathroom, especially with a girl coming by to look at Eleanor's room in a couple hours. Not to mention that Mr. Roper would probably drop by any minute to complain about the party. Even if Jack were in dry clothes, that would be hard to explain to our suspicious, old-fashioned landlord.

Jack is about six foot and it's not like either of us, or Eleanor, is very tall. I might've been able to loan him one of my sleepshirts, since those are big and loose on me, but what would he do about pants or, gulp, underwear?

I ended up loaning him Eleanor's flowered bathrobe. She never really liked it, which is why she left it behind. It was weird to see it wrapped around a flat stomach, with long, hairy legs poking out beneath. (It was long on Eleanor but came to just above Jack's knees.) And obviously it was too feminine for Jack, but he couldn't afford to be choosy. After all, we could've just kicked him out, or even called the cops.

I dried Jack's clothes in the oven, since I didn't want to go down to the laundry room, especially since that would've meant leaving him alone with Chrissy. (But I'll get to that.) And, yes, it was one of the few times I've used the oven since I moved in.

Gosh, this must be my longest entry ever, in a year of keeping a diary! And I'm only up to like 10:15 yesterday morning. I think I'll take you in my purse tomorrow and write during my lunch hour.


	2. June 20, 1977

Monday, June 20, 1977

Chrissy got her bath after Jack shaved, with her Lady Schick. He took a nap on the couch and was still dozing after my shower. I kept hoping that our prospective roommate wouldn't show up too early, because I had no idea how we'd explain the man sleeping on our sofa in a flowered bathrobe. And Jack aside, we still had to finish cleaning up from the party. But Chrissy and I figured we should have a late breakfast (I guess brunch by then) to give us strength to deal with all the messes. So once we were both in "nice casual" outfits for meeting "the new girl," we went in the kitchen to face the daunting task of making a meal.

It still hadn't fully sunk in that we no longer had Eleanor around to do all the cooking. I mean, we'd talked about it of course, but it hadn't seemed real until that moment. I mean, she even made food for her own wedding reception! We hoped that the girl coming by to look at her room could also take her place in the kitchen. Meanwhile, we'd have to do the best we could.

Which wasn't very good. I'd taken some aspirin and my hangover wasn't as bad as when I first woke up, but the eggs I made did not look too appetizing. Chrissy burnt the toast, I think by putting the wrong setting on the toaster. It wasn't that complicated a breakfast, but it was beyond our meager skills. But we were out of dry cereal, so that wasn't an option. And we made enough for Jack, just in case. Even though we hadn't invited him to the party, he'd have to hang out until his clothes were dry.

He woke up and came into the kitchen just as we were putting the food on the table. He steered clear of the black bread, but my scrambled eggs were less obviously awful. Then he took a bite and said how terrible they were.

Chrissy came to my defense and asked if he could do better. He saw this as a challenge and got up to look in our refrigerator.

It felt weird to have a stranger, especially a male stranger, take over our kitchen. But I was curious what he would come up with. He promised us "eggs Madera fun chow." He's studying to be a chef at the L.A. Technical College, but he won't graduate until 1980.

He asked for some wine, so I made some up from the party leftovers, pouring half-empty glasses back into a bottle. Someone knocked while I was in the middle of that, so I just asked who it was instead of going to the door. I hoped it wasn't the prospective roommate arriving more than an hour early. When it turned out to be Mrs. Roper, I told her to come in.

She said we should lock our front door since there have been a lot of robberies in this neighborhood lately. I hadn't heard about that, but then I'd been pretty distracted with Eleanor's life the past few weeks. Mrs. Roper had come by to talk to us about the loud party, but she was really nice and understanding about it.

She was just about to leave when Jack came into the living room to ask about the wine. I handed him the bottle, which was only a quarter full, and hustled him out of the living room. Then I told Mrs. Roper that that was a girlfriend who slept over, and I hustled Mrs. Roper out the front door. I knew she wouldn't fall for it, but at least I'd bought us a little time.

Unfortunately, I had to use some of that time to quickly clean up the apartment, gathering streamers and other decorations into a big trash bag, piling dirty dishes and glasses into the kitchen sink. Then I took the trash out to the dumpster and came upstairs to wash the dishes and glasses.

Meanwhile, Jack kept making breakfast, and flirting with Chrissy. I could tell she liked it. I mean, Jack has an ego, but he can be very charming. And, OK, he's good-looking. Not just tall, but well-built. (I had to try not to think about the fact that he wasn't even wearing shorts under Eleanor's robe, because I'd put his underwear in the oven along with the rest of his clothes.) Brown hair with short sideburns. A boy-next-door kind of face. And of course he finds Chrissy attractive, with her curves, lush blonde hair, and sweetness.

When he was frying onions, he ogled Chrissy, especially when he heard she was a typist. You know men and their secretary fantasies. He didn't give a darn when Chrissy told him I work in a flower shop.

And, OK, yes, maybe I am jealous, the way he hardly noticed me and seemed fascinated by Chrissy. I mean, it's not like this hasn't happened with guys preferring Chrissy, but before I had Eleanor to joke about it with. And with her fat and pregnant, well, obviously I felt attractive in comparison to her at least.

When the doorbell rang, Chrissy said she'd get it. Jack leered after her and said, "As far as I'm concerned, she's already got it." Yeah, I just loved him being a pig and treating me like one of the guys. I wanted to kick him out, but I figured I'd wait until after breakfast, since his cooking did smell awfully good.

The person at the door wasn't one of the Ropers, but the girl who was supposed to look at Eleanor's room, arriving closer to eleven than "noonish." I remembered from her call setting up the appointment that her name was Patricia Crawford. She works in a bank and seemed kind of Preppie. I knew we weren't going to get an ex-hippie like Eleanor, but I guess I was hoping for someone a little cooler. Still, I was willing to at least meet her, since no one else had responded to our ad yet.

She was rude to or rather about Jack when Chrissy introduced him and I added, "We found him in the bathtub," telling us that she once found a horrible hairy spider in the tub. And that bothered me, even though I was annoyed with Jack, maybe because he was sort of our guest, and for all she knew, he could've been a good friend, or one of our boyfriends.

Chrissy and I followed her from the living room to the kitchen and I started to call her Patricia, but she said her friends call her "Pattykins." I wouldn't even call Eleanor's friend Patty that, so I said, "OK. Patricia, the thing is, well, we have a lot of other girls coming to look at the apartment." This surprised Chrissy, but I didn't want to settle for Pattykins unless we had to. Just in the minute I'd seen her in person, and also on the phone (when I swear she said "I'll be there noonish"), she struck me as really bossy, and I don't know if I could take that in a roommate. Both Eleanor and Chrissy have strong opinions about their lives, but they've never tried to push me around.

Patricia offered to come back the next day, but I didn't want to deal with her on a Sunday, especially since she'd probably show up while Chrissy was at church. I was trying to figure out how to get out of it, when the doorbell rang. Chrissy answered it again, and this time it was Mr. Roper.

I guess Mrs. Roper told him about our overnight guest, because he assumed that Patricia was a man in drag! She has a posh, alto voice and he told her she doesn't even sound like a woman. He poked her in the chest with his finger, expecting to find falsies! So Patricia hit him with her purse and called him a dirty old man. He apologized, badly, and ran out.

I know I shouldn't have laughed and I did feel a little bad for her, but I couldn't help it. I really cracked up when Chrissy deadpanly asked, "Do you think he's taking too much Geritol?"

Patricia was shocked but the way she expressed it made me laugh more, including how she left saying she could never live in the same building as a man like that. "He didn't even say please!"

I shut the door after her, and Chrissy and I made "oh darn" finger-snaps. Then Jack poked his head into the living room and said, "Come and get it!"

I'll tell you about breakfast and everything after it next time, since lunch is over and I've got to get back to work.


	3. June 21, 1977

Tuesday, June 21, 1977

Oh God, I haven't even finished with Saturday morning and now I have to tell you what happened last night! But I'll keep trying to go in order as much as I can.

When Chrissy and I went back to the kitchen for breakfast, Jack pulled Chrissy's chair out for her. He was a lot less chivalrous with me. Even after I cleared my throat, he just pointed at the remaining chair and said I could sit there. I was again annoyed with him, but I sat down.

With his false modesty, he said, "I hope it's all right. It's the best I could do under these primitive conditions." It would've served him right if it were terrible, but Chrissy and I couldn't help murmuring our approval with our happily full mouths. He smiled and said, "You don't care for it, huh? Oh, it's nothing really. Any genius could've done it." Then he told us his specialty, which I can't spell because he said it in French. (I know some Italian from my nonna, but very little French.) He said he hopes to eventually "open a little restaurant for people who can really appreciate high prices." He also said he doesn't get to cook much at the YMCA, the only place he can afford, unless he finds someone to share an apartment with.

Chrissy and I looked at each other and we were thinking the same thing. After all, we need a new roommate, especially one who can cook, and this was probably the best breakfast I'd ever eaten. (With apologies to my mother, sister June, and Eleanor.)

Chrissy took his hand and asked, "How would you like—?"

He said, "I like it already."

I knew it was happening again, her leading a guy on accidentally. And although I knew it would be great to have Jack cooking for us, there would be definite drawbacks. So I led her into the living room to talk it over. Well, we went back and got our plates so we could eat as we talked.

She didn't see what there was to talk over because she was sure he'd make a terrific roommate. I agreed in some ways, but I still thought we should go through the pluses and minuses:  
1\. He's a great cook. PLUS!  
2\. He would be good protection for us around the house. PLUS! (Especially with what Mrs. Roper told me about the recent robberies.)  
3\. He's very good-looking. Chrissy gave an enthusiastic PLUS, but I was and am definitely in the MINUS column on this one.

I mentioned how he was looking at her and reminded her of her low melting point, including with Frank, the guy who said he "wanted her for a friend," and then brought the friend the next night. She admitted that, but said she'll be strong with Jack. I said she can't help herself. I figured we'd enjoy the breakfast, give Jack his clothes when they were dry, and let him go out of our lives. Hopefully, the next girl to come by the apartment would be a nice person and a better cook than the two of us.

But Chrissy said, "You'll have to be strong for both of us."

Great, just great. I mean, I don't mind looking out for Chrissy at parties and the Regal Beagle and other places where men hit on her, but in our own home? And it doesn't help that I'm also attracted to Jack, even if he's kind of conceited and barely seemed to notice me. Even if he weren't interested in Chrissy, why should I have an unrequited crush living in my apartment?

Still, I figured we could try it for awhile and see how it went. After all, it wasn't like we were signing a lease with him. Also, I had a hunch that Mr. Roper wouldn't go for a man living with two women, and I hadn't yet figured out how to get around that. We might be able to hide that fact from our landlord for a month or two, like how we hid Eleanor's pregnancy for awhile. Well, OK, it's not the same thing as wearing loose tops, but maybe Jack could sneak in and out of the apartment, or be passed off as a friend who visits us during the daytime.

So after a few more bites, Chrissy and I returned to the kitchen and she said, "Jack, we would like you to move in with us."

Then I said, "Let's go in the living room and talk about this," because I didn't want to be distracted by the food anymore.

He looked very surprised but happily followed Chrissy into the living room, with me trailing after them. And when she said he'll have to share everything, he said, "Gladly."

I explained that she meant the rent, the food, the phone bill. He told me he'd need time to think it over but he turned and told Chrissy, "I'll take it."

I knew I had to put my foot down as soon as possible, if this was going to work even on a short-term basis. I led him across the living room and pointed out his room (formerly Eleanor's) and our room, adding, "One false move and we take you right to the vet." He winced.

The doorbell rang yet again, and as Chrissy went to answer it, she told Jack, "You can move in as soon as you like."

This time it was both Ropers, wanting to settle "a certain matter about sex." As in the sex of our overnight guest. Mrs. Roper recognized Jack of course, and Mr. Roper came over and poked Jack in the chest to prove that this wasn't the person he poked earlier.

Chrissy introduced Mr. Roper as our landlord who's "always doing that," although of course he'd never done anything like that before that day (that I know of). Jack introduced himself and said he was moving in. Mr. Roper insisted that Jack couldn't move in with two girls, even after Jack said it'd be strictly platonic. (Mrs. Roper explained that as "like you and me, Stanley.")

Jack went in the kitchen to put his jeans on, and Chrissy went with him to take them out of the oven.

While they were gone, Mr. Roper said, "I can't believe a nice girl like you, Janet, would want to live with a man."

I was surprised by that myself, but when Mr. Roper objected, as I'd known he would, I suddenly really wanted Jack to move in, complications or not. So I said, "Well, I wouldn't if Jack were an ordinary man."

"Oh, really?" Mrs. Roper said, intrigued.

I knew that the two pluses wouldn't count for much with Mr. Roper, who'd probably recommend we find a girl who can cook and do karate. And he would agree with my minus, although his wife would find it a plus.

"Yes, he's a decent, respectable, hard-working, young man." I based this on almost nothing, since I just met the guy an hour and a half earlier. Well, I did know that, in addition to going to cooking school, he picks up odd jobs, hopefully enough to cover one-third of the rent and everything.

"That doesn't mean he wouldn't try to fool around with you girls."

"Yeah!" Mrs. Roper said enthusiastically.

"Well, maybe, if he were straight."

They both stared at me.

"You mean he's a Tinkerbell?" Mr. Roper made a little bell-tinkling gesture.

I felt both amused and annoyed, but I did my best to hide it. "Yes, he's gay."

"That explains the dressing gown!" Mrs. Roper whispered.

"So he has no interest in women?"

"None," I fibbed.

"Oh, well, that's different."

Then Jack came back in, wearing his jeans but with Eleanor's robe tucked in like a shirt. He was now ready to tell off Mr. Roper, but our landlord called him "son" and said I'd explained it and Jack could move in after all. 

Mrs. Roper pinched Jack's cheek and said, "And we hope you'll be very happy here, Dear."

Jack and Chrissy were both understandably confused. After the Ropers left, I sat down on the couch and explained, as Jack sat on the arm and Chrissy stood behind him. Jack was so surprised that I told Mr. Roper that he was gay, he fell onto the floor, and Chrissy sank onto the arm.

"I hope you don't mind," I said.

"Well, it got his approval, so I guess it's OK."

"So you still want to move in?" Chrissy asked.

"Well, yeah, but I'm paid up at the Y through Monday, so could I have a couple days?"

"Of course," I said, needing time to get used to the idea, even though, yes, I could've prevented this if I hadn't talked to Mr. Roper about him.

Chrissy pouted. "That's two breakfasts, two lunches, and two dinners we have to make in the meantime."

"Well, you'll just have to manage without my skills for a little longer," he said flirtily.

Apparently, his interpretation of "platonic" is different from mine. I probably can't stop him from flirting with Chrissy, but I'll do my best to keep them from fooling around, although there have been some extra challenges recently. But I'll get to that next time.


	4. June 22, 1977

Wednesday, June 22, 1977

So, Monday was the night that Jack was scheduled to move in. And on the one hand, Chrissy wanted to spoil our new roommate, with fresh curtains and one of my favorite plants in Eleanor's old room. And on the other, she was really worried about her father finding out that a man was moving in with us.

I told her that her father is a minister, not God. Then there was a crack of thunder, but I knew it was just the predicted summer storm on its way. OK, not a great omen for our new living arrangement, but even storms clear.

My main worry was and continues to be that Jack and Chrissy's attraction to each other is a ticking time bomb. Even if they don't fool around, there's this sexual tension that I have to deal with. And if Mr. Roper catches on to it, then we'll all be evicted, even though it's not my fault. Well, I weathered Eleanor's pregnancy, which I also wasn't responsible for, so I can get through this. Still, Monday offered some unexpected challenges.

The Ropers came by a little before Jack arrived, Mr. Roper to fix our doorbell (which broke at some point during Eleanor and Ted's wedding reception), his wife to "caddy" the stepstool. Both before Jack got there and after, Mr. Roper made slurs against homosexuals, or "fairies" and "Tinkerbells" as he likes to call them. So he deserved it a little that he was holding the loose wires to the doorbell when it rang.

Chrissy let in Jack, who was carrying two bags of groceries. When Mr. Roper assumed Jack was an interior decorator, Jack looked at the two of us, as we made _Please don't spoil this_ expressions. So Jack said that "some of us," meaning homosexuals, are boxers. (Jack told me yesterday that he did box in the Navy.) He intimidated Mr. Roper into leaving.

Mrs. Roper stayed behind to again welcome Jack to the building, while Chrissy and I went to get the rest of his belongings from outside. In my case, this was two duffle bags and a box, while Chrissy brought a bundle of three books. Guess who he thanked?

Mrs. Roper invited the three of us down to the Regal Beagle, her treat. But Jack said he had an early class the next day and told her, "Not tonight," which she said would be the perfect title for her autobiography. (She makes no secret of her apparently very dull sex life with Mr. Roper.)

After she left, Jack asked how long he has to make Mr. Roper think he's gay. I told him it'll have to be as long as he lives with us. I can't see Mr. Roper evolving into letting men and women live together, even platonically. Oh, I hope it stays platonically!

I didn't like the tone Jack used when he said to Chrissy, "Well, just as long as you know different."

And then she did her inadvertent-come-on thing by asking him to "come in the kitchen and show me what you've got." I had to explain she meant the groceries. And when the phone rang, I had her get it so I would be the one to go in the kitchen to help Jack with the groceries.

I did have an ulterior motive, no, not that! (As if Jack would even want to touch me when Chrissy is around.) I wanted to know what delicious dish he was making for dinner. He promised "veal parmesan with a side dish of luscious fettucini." I gained five pounds just hearing that.

Unfortunately, the phone call was with Chrissy's mother, who was coming by in a few minutes! See, although both Chrissy's parents are convinced that Los Angeles is "Sin City" (my parents have a slighter higher opinion but were mainly concerned about my moving so far away from Speedway), Chrissy's mother has an unusual mouth. I know that sounds weird, but Chrissy once explained it to me and Eleanor how her mother has to see a special dentist in L.A., even though she lives in Fresno. So Monday was her semi-annual dental appointment in our town.

Chrissy suggested I take Jack down to the Beagle while she entertained her mother. He didn't want to go, early night in and all, but I already knew enough of his type (buxom blondes) to tell him, "Oh, you'll love it there. The beer is flat, but the barmaid's not."

Five minutes later, Mrs. Roper greeted us and led us to the middle table, my favorite. And less than thirty seconds later, I was telling Jack, "Down, Boy," for ogling Heidi the barmaid.

We both momentarily forgot the other person at our table, and she triumphantly said, "I knew it. You're not gay, are you?"

We were both speechless. So much for my brilliant lie. I should've taken Jack somewhere where he wouldn't reveal his piggishness in front of our gossipy landlady. She did promise to not give Jack away, but can I trust him not to do or say something in front of Mr. Roper?

Jack admitted he's not gay, adding, "I'm as normal as Mr. Roper." She told him not to spoil it.

Yeah, if her husband had Jack's libido, I mean focused on her rather than on other women, Mrs. Roper would be a very happy woman. As it was, she was a little flirty with Jack, even before she was sure he was straight, like when she offered him "a little bread, a little wine, a little thou." I'm sure she's faithful to her husband (she'd be a lot less frustrated if she cheated), but that doesn't mean she doesn't look at attractive men.

Jack and I both assured Mrs. Roper that there's nothing going on in our apartment. (Well, not counting sexual tension.) She told us there's nothing going on in her apartment either. We all laughed and I felt like I could trust her.


	5. June 23, 1977

Thursday, June 23, 1977

After we cleared the air with Mrs. Roper about Jack's sexual orientation, Heidi brought over our drinks, distracting Jack again. So I got him to tell us about cooking school. I still hoped to have veal parmesan for dinner, so I was resisting ordering any food, even though it was Fish & Chips Nite. (It hit me that I'd never go to the Beagle on a Monday with Eleanor again and I wondered if she missed their thick, greasy fries and how she was liking hospital food. And then I felt guilty that I'd been so distracted by Jack that I still hadn't gone to see her and the baby yet. And, no, I never got around to it, and now she's off on her honeymoon. I'm such a bad friend!)

Even though men love to talk about themselves (and Jack is as much of an egomaniac as any of them), he did get bored after awhile. Mrs. Roper suggested darts, but he said he didn't know how to play, and he refused her offer to "teach him how to score." I suggested he get another beer, but he said he didn't want another beer, he wanted to go home to his own bed. Of course, when Heidi offered more beer, he said yes.

She also told me that there was a phone call for me at the bar, so I knew that had to be Chrissy. Mrs. Roper said goodnight while Chrissy told me that her mother planned to stay overnight, so I couldn't really focus on our landlady. Mrs. Snow didn't want to take the late bus back to Fresno when Chrissy told her that Eleanor had moved out to get married (of course leaving out the little bundle of joy), especially since Chrissy also told her that we hadn't "got another girl" for Eleanor's room.

I asked Chrissy where Jack would sleep, and she suggested the bus station (I said the cops would pick him up) or the 24-hour laundromat (the hookers would pick him up). Chrissy wanted me to do something, but I pointed out it was her mother. She said she'd do something if it was my mother. (Yes, I really hope my parents never come all the way from Indiana without warning.) So I told her to pretend her mother is my mother and do it. I know, I know, but if I had a solution, I would've offered it to her.

I did explain things to Jack and suggested a hotel, but the cheapest in walking distance was $20, and obviously taking a cab to and from wouldn't help. Then I thought of the all-night showing of _War and Peace_ at the Art Theatre, for only $3. I mean, I would've gone if it were me and I didn't have to work the next day. It was the eight-hour, original Russian version, which I saw and loved in college (with subtitles of course).

He insisted on going back to the apartment. When I reminded him that Chrissy's mother would be in the spare bed, he said, "It is not the spare bed. It is my bed and I'm going back. I'm going to undress. I'm going to climb into my bed, and if anybody else is in there, that's her problem."

Luckily, Chrissy showed up and helped me haul Jack back to the table. Unluckily, after I ordered another beer for Jack to keep him in place longer, Chrissy suggested he sleep in our room! I thought she was crazy, because I didn't really trust her, and I definitely didn't trust him. He assured Chrissy he'd be on his best behavior, but when she left ahead of us, he asked me, "Is the bed big enough for the three of us?" He was probably just kidding, but I did not find that reassuring.

The three of us walked back to the apartment and then crept in. Chrissy listened at the door of the room that Eleanor slept in for two years and Jack had yet to sleep in. (Yes, he has since.) She could hear her mother's sleep-breathing, so we were going to just sneak Jack into our room, but he developed hiccups from all the beer he drank that night, so we were afraid he'd give us away.

We did make it to the bedroom but Jack suggested he go cure his hiccups in the kitchen. Then Chrissy, fearing her mother would catch him, said she didn't want him leaving the room. So he was about to make himself comfortable on Chrissy's bed, but I patted the chair and said, "This is your bed, Big Time."

Unfortunately, this gave him the perfect spot to watch us take our clothes off. (I didn't get beyond my vest, and Chrissy was just starting to unbutton her blouse.) I had him go cure his hiccups so we could change into our nightclothes in privacy.

Before he left, he asked, "Whatever happened to the Sexual Revolution?"

Chrissy smiled and said, "Your side lost." And then she locked the door after him.

"Chrissy, I don't know about this," I said, since it was our first chance to talk alone since Jack arrived with his groceries. (We never did have supper by the way, not that night.)

"Janet, it'll be fine. It's not like he's going to try anything with my mother in the next room."

"Yeah, but she's asleep."

Chrissy frowned. "True. And she's learned to be a very sound sleeper because of my father."

"Huh?"

"Sometimes he practices his sermons at night."

"Oh. My mother is a very light sleeper, because she had four kids and had to listen for crying babies at night for about a decade."

"Chrissy? Chrissy?"

"Sound sleeper, huh?"

"Janet, I think she's in the living room! She'll spot Jack!" She went to the door and unbolted it.

"Don't you think you should finish changing?" I asked, since she was standing there in her panties.

"Oh, right," she said, rebolting it. She quickly threw on her nightie and robe.

When she heard Jack quietly rattling the locked door, I warned her in a whisper, "Wait until you're sure what room your mother is in."

She nodded and unbolted when she heard her mother close Jack's door again. She cautiously crept out and found Jack hiccuping in the dark living room. She quickly ushered him into our room.

He claimed his hiccups were gone, although I had my doubts about that, too. I told him to go to sleep. He settled into the chair with the blanket Chrissy loaned him, while I turned out the bedside lamp and she took off her robe and got into bed.


	6. June 24, 1977

Friday, June 24, 1977

We of course couldn't all just settle in for a quiet sleep on Monday. The living room window began rattling because the storm was starting. (Luckily, it wasn't raining when we came back from the Beagle.) I hated to send Jack back out there but, well, it is one of the things we'd hoped a male roommate would help with, since Mr. Roper is kind of useless. (I was unaware that our landlord had come back and fixed the doorbell, but more about that in a bit.)

Jack was worried Mrs. Snow would see him, so Chrissy went. I'd turned on the lamp when I heard the rattle, so Chrissy had Jack turn around in the swivel chair so that he wouldn't see her in just her short nightie and ruffled panties. Unfortunately, she forgot that he could now see her in the dresser mirror, which he made clear by complimenting the mole on her thigh!

We both glared at him in the reflection. Chrissy grabbed her robe and warned me, "Watch him. He's tricky."

While she was gone, he stretched out on her bed and said, "Boy, in that nightie, she's really something. I mean, everywhere you look at her, she's a girl." He was doing that thing again, talking like a pig and as if I'm just one of the guys. OK, my blue "zero" jersey sleepshirt isn't exactly feminine, but it's comfortable, and no guy ever saw me in it before Monday except for my father and brother.

I couldn't help asking, "What am I, a gorilla?"

"No, you're very...bright."

"Ah. More like a chimp."

He rolled over and said, "No, Janet, I think you're very cute."

I laughed, flattered despite myself.

Chrissy came back in and said she couldn't budge the window. Jack said it was his job as "man of the house" to take care of it, but he had to add, "Meanwhile, make yourselves beautiful for me."

After he left, I had to rant, "Oh, all of the vain, arrogant, egotistical—"

Chrissy said, "He's kind of nice though."

I had to admit, "Yeah, he is, isn't he?" I lay back down with a smile on my face. And that's the thing, he does have a huge ego and maybe a huge libido, but he is kind of nice. Yeah, and a great cook, although so far I'd just eaten one of his breakfasts.

Then we heard her mother go into the living room again! And then something banged on the window and she called for Chrissy. We raced into the living room. Mrs. Snow said someone was outside, but Chrissy pretended she couldn't hear the banging on the window or the front door.

I answered the door because I knew we couldn't just ignore this. I opened the door to Jack, who got drenched in the few minutes he'd apparently been hiding outside. He told me he'd had it and he didn't care whose mother this was.

I told him not to blow it for Chrissy and then pretended I was greeting a friend who dropped by. He played along, saying he was just passing by and he thought he'd knock. Then he said he was going to invite us to the all-night showing of _War and Peace_ , but he saw we were ready for bed so he'd leave. Unfortunately, Chrissy's mother noticed he wasn't wearing shoes.

Chrissy blurted out, "They're against his religion!"

I figured Mrs. Snow wouldn't buy that, so I said, "That is just like Jack, anything to be different. Goodnight, Jack."

Mrs. Snow asked if this was Jack Tripper, the "young man sharing the apartment with us." Apparently Mr. Roper told her when he came back to fix the doorbell, including the part about Jack being gay. She just assumed that Jack was away since Chrissy let her have his room. So she's fine with him staying here, and presumably she'll tell her husband. (They're not the kind of Christians who have issues with gay people, thank God.)

Mrs. Snow went back to bed. Chrissy, like on Saturday, told Jack to get out of his wet clothes, and this time he said, "I thought you'd never ask." But I had him sleep on the sofa of course.

Chrissy's mother caught the morning bus back to Fresno after Jack made us all a delicious breakfast. And he made the veal parmesan and fettucini that night (Tuesday). It was amazing!

I had a very interesting conversation with him while he was cooking it. Well, more interesting than I realized at the time.

I asked, "So you box?"

"Well, I make boxed lunches."

"Ba-dump-bump."

"Yeah, no, I boxed a little in the Navy."

"You were in the Navy?"

"Yeah, for a couple years."

"Did you serve in Vietnam?" I don't know his age, but he looks around 25.

"No, this was after. I just got out in January and then I started the cooking course at the L.A. Technical College. The G.I. Bill pays for some of it."

"Nice."

It didn't fully hit me until today but I felt like I'd seen him in Navy whites. So I took last year's diary with me to work, too, and I looked it up and on Christmas Eve I wrote about being hit on in a San Diego bar by "one of the most handsome men I've ever met. He was in a white Navy uniform but with mistletoe attached to his cap. He was tall, maybe six feet, with wavy brown hair and blue eyes. A good body and a boyish face." I think he'd been drinking, and that was six months ago, so I doubt he remembers me. And I wouldn't swear to it that it was Jack, but what if it was? I "accidentally" spilled a bloody Mary all over his uniform, and then he pretended to slip on the slippery floor as Eleanor (who he also hit on) and I were leaving.

Well, I'm not going to mention it to him, in case I'm wrong, but maybe there was a moment when he was attracted to me, before he met Chrissy, and before we ended up living together.


	7. July 3-4, 1977

Sunday, July 3, 1977

We've got a three-day weekend because of the holiday tomorrow, so I figured it was the perfect time to redecorate. After all, this place hasn't changed much since Eleanor and Patty moved in. And while I like their taste, it would be nice to have the apartment reflect the three of us more. Plus, well, it's nice to have a big, strong man to do all the heavy lifting, although I would never put it that way to Jack, with his ego.

Or at least that was my thinking when I suggested this project Friday evening. We can't afford to do much, not on our budget, and of course Mr. Roper isn't going to be any help. He claims he just redecorated two years ago, when Patty and Eleanor moved in. (According to Eleanor, he just did the bathroom tile.) But I got some wallpaper, using the discount I'm eligible for through the flower shop. (The owner, Mr. Compton, has a deal with Color Me Surprised on our block, where he provides day-old flowers.) And all it would take to fix the couch would be tacks and muscle.

At first, it was just my muscle and Chrissy's, because Jack said he was going to take a quick bike ride to the beach and back. He was gone for over an hour, and then it turned out he'd been following a woman with a "jiggly seat." He acted like he'd been chivalrous in helping her fix her bicycle, but I know him better than that.

He did help us fix the couch, although he had to scare the wits out of us by pretending to swallow a handful of tacks. And then we accidentally (no, really, it was accidental) dropped the couch on his foot when the three of us flipped it over. The couch felt firm when I tested it out, but poor Jack's cushion fell through the slat.

That was still no excuse for him to want to slack off from redecorating, and then Chrissy suggested going to the Beagle when I gave him a choice of re-fixing the couch or putting up wallpaper. They felt that because it was Saturday, they should enjoy the day off, but it was because it was Saturday that I thought it was the perfect time to get started. Then when they left for the pub, I didn't want to be left behind. I figured we still had the rest of the day, and of course today and tomorrow, to get back to the project.

When we got to the Beagle, I insisted it was just a work-break and we weren't going to spend all night there. (It was five o'clock by then.) I figured we'd just get beer, but Jack ordered sandwiches for all of us. Yeah, he was so lazy, he got out of making dinner, too.

And then, despite his laziness, he started giving me a "humorous" lecture about how, throughout history, men have always been the builders and protectors, while women have "sat around the cave learning how to put on eyeshadow."

In the middle of his talk, a big, muscular, blond guy in a captain's hat came over and literally leaned on Jack, while hitting on Chrissy, who wasn't interested. I mean, the guy was cute, but she doesn't like the overly aggressive type.

The guy asked if she was with anybody, and she said, "I am with him," meaning Jack. He said, in a sense, the three of us were together. The guy told Jack to butt out.

Jack literally stood up to him and said, "I think I should warn you," but the jerk warned him, "The last guy who warned me about something got all his teeth knocked out." Jack sat down because his father "paid a fortune for his braces."

The jerk's friend led him back to the bar, but the jerk told Chrissy, "I'll be back here tomorrow, Babe. But don't bring him. He frightens me."

Jack's ego turned out to be more fragile than I realized, and I did feel bad for him. Chrissy and I did our best to reassure him, but he still looked crushed.

And then the Ropers came in, and I was sure that Mr. Roper was going to make one of his "decorator" jokes, especially considering our weekend project. I knew Jack wouldn't be able to just shrug it off like before.

At first, I was relieved when the Ropers went to the bar instead of coming over to our table. Then, and I didn't catch the whole thing, but the jerk accidentally spilled a drink on Mr. Roper, who called him stupid and didn't back down. The jerk even bought Mr. Roper another drink, to celebrate finding "a real man" in the place. That made Jack feel even worse of course.

Then Heidi came over with our sandwich orders. "Let's see, you two are the egg salad," she said, and I ordinarily would've been pleased that Jack already knew our favorite meal here. But then she told Jack, "And I believe you're the chicken."

None of us felt like eating, so after a minute, I went to Heidi, who was over at the booth, and asked her to make it all to go. (Well, not the beer, since you can't take that out.)

"I don't blame you," she said and went to wrap up our food.

Jack didn't say much on the walk back, and he just went to his room, without eating.

Chrissy and I ate in the kitchen and she said, "Jack really did do the right thing."

"I know, but Jack doesn't."

"Should we talk to him?"

"Let's let him have some space and then if he's still down about it tomorrow, we can reassure him."

She nodded and we finished our egg salad sandwiches.

I'll tell you about this morning tomorrow, since Chrissy will be back from church soon.

  
  
  


Sunday, July 4, 1977

Jack had promised to show me how to make a cheese omelet, so Sunday morning I got out the cheese and eggs and planned to act as if everything was normal. I know how proud Jack is of his cooking skills, and I was willing to boost his ego back up a bit. Plus, I really would like to learn to cook something and not be totally useless in the kitchen.

But he was still down in the mouth when he came into the kitchen. And he scolded me for forgetting to take the plastic off the cube of cheese, which he thought I was offering because I thought he was a "mouse." He told me about being bully in school by "fat Kenny Jensen." I tried to cheer him up, but it didn't work. He left to go shave, saying he couldn't even beat up an egg.

He was in a slightly better mood when I went back to the kitchen half an hour later. He was chuckling at the funnies, although he got angry that he hadn't stood up to the bully at the Beagle like some guy was standing up to his bullying foreman in a comic strip.

We don't have a subscription to the paper, but Chrissy said that the paperboy threw it on our doorstep. (And waited for her bend over to pick it up. Our paperboy is thirteen and has a crush on Chrissy, but she doesn't know that.) I thought maybe it was a free sample copy, like when they're trying to get you to subscribe. When Jack went to answer the door, I accidentally knocked the coffeepot onto the newspaper, which turned out to be the Ropers' Sunday paper.

Mr. Roper said his Sunday was ruined. Jack said, to make it up to him, he'd buy Mr. Roper a beer at the pub that night. I couldn't believe Jack wanted to go back there, especially since the creep had told Chrissy he'd be there.

Mr. Roper said he'd heard about Jack and that guy and he teased that Jack could never get in a fight because "it would ruin his nails." And he called Jack "Tinkerbell" and "one of the girls." But then Mrs. Roper came in and said she'd made a dental appointment for him, and suddenly Mr. Roper wasn't acting so tough.

After the Ropers left, we had breakfast and then Chrissy had to go to church. I tried to talk Jack out of going to the pub that night, but he said I didn't know what being a man is about. Well, if it's about doing stupid, macho things, then he had it down.

So the three of us went to the pub in the evening again. Chrissy said that Jack probably figured that if the creep put him in the hospital, that would get Jack out of redecorating, and I don't think she was entirely kidding.

After Jack brought us our beers, Chrissy told him that we'd respect him more, think of him as more of a man, if he didn't fight. He said he'd be willing to accept an apology. Then the big creep came in with his friend and sat at the bar. He called Jack "Sweetie" and made a limp-wrist gesture.

Jack wanted to confront him, but we wouldn't let him. And when he said he was going to order sandwiches, I said I'd do it.

So I went over and talked to the creep. I told him that Jack was going to knock his block off. The bully laughed.

So then I said, "Listen, you really don't want to hit my friend."

"Oh yeah, Honey, and why's that?"

"Because he has a steel plate in his head."

"What?"

"From saving his platoon in Vietnam."

Yes, once again I was lying on Jack's behalf, this time to keep him from possibly losing his life rather than to give him a place to live. I mean, he was in the Navy, even if it wasn't in Vietnam, so it wasn't entirely a lie, right?

"Seriously?"

Before I could elaborate further, Jack came over and asked if the guy was insulting me. When I said no, Jack said the guy insulted me and Chrissy the night before. So he told the creep off, and the creep actually apologized and went into the men's room with his friend.

Chrissy came over and we told Jack how great he was. Unfortunately, when we were all back at the table, Jim, the bartender, came over and gave Jack a shot on the house, because he heard my "steel plate" story.

Jack felt like a fool, but Chrissy pointed out brave he was, standing up to the creep without knowing about my lie. Jack felt better and said, "I guess I was a hero, even if I didn't go to Vietnam."

The creep came back from the men's room and said, "What's that?"

So Jack said it was Cambodia, and he demonstrated throwing a grenade, and then fell over in his chair.

He was in a happier mood today, we all were, and we got some redecorating done. And now we're going down to the beach to watch fireworks. I can't help thinking of how Eleanor met Ted a year ago, and I had no idea how it would change all our lives. But I'm glad Jack and Chrissy are my roommates now, as much as I miss Eleanor sometimes.


	8. July 10 to August 3, 1977

Sunday, July 10, 1977

This morning, Larry came back from his three-week vacation. I hadn't seen since him I passed out at Eleanor's wedding reception.

When he dropped by after Chrissy left for church, I introduced him to Jack.

They shook hands and Larry said, "You have a firmer grip than I expected."

"Larry!" I scolded.

"What? It's a compliment. You don't seem gay, Jack."

I shook my head.

"I'm not. Janet just told Roper I'm gay so that he'd let me live with the girls."

"Oh! Got it. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

Considering how gossipy Larry is, I was and am worried, but I suppose we couldn't have kept it from him forever.

"Thanks."

"Of course, Horace and Mike don't seem gay either, so you never know."

"Who are Horace and Mike?" I asked.

"The new couple who moved next door to you. They were at Eleanor's going-away party."

"I don't remember them."

"Well, you were pretty drunk and they might've shown up after you passed out in the middle of your strip-tease."

Jack's eyebrows went up. "Little Janet got drunk and did a strip-tease?"

"Oh yeah. You've got to watch the quiet ones."

"Larry!"

"Only teasing, Janet. Eleanor was the wild one, although you'd expect it to be Chrissy."

"Tell me more," Jack said.

"Well...."

"Goodbye, Larry, thanks for dropping by." I waved for emphasis.

"Hey, Larry, you want to get a beer at the Beagle?"

"If you're buying and you're really not gay, then sure."

So the two of them are probably gossiping about us at the pub right now. I hope Jack will make it clear that this is a platonic living arrangement. Not just for the sake of my reputation and Chrissy's (which I still care about even though it's the Seventies), but for the sake of our living arrangement.

  


Sunday, July 17, 1977

Well, I met Horace and Mike. They seem very nice. I asked how they like living here. They said they like it, despite having their apartment broken into recently. Nothing valuable was taken, but it still makes me nervous. I remember that one of the reasons for asking Jack to move in was for protection, but he's got school six hours a week (yes, even in the summer), plus whatever odd jobs he can pick up. There are going to be times when none of us is home.

Yes, the Ropers live downstairs and they're usually around, but that didn't help Mike and Horace, did it? Oh, and by the way, Mr. Roper has no clue that they're anything more than "roommates." So they don't have to hear the "Tinkerbell" and "decorator" jokes like Jack does.

As for my own "love life," I went out with Jerry Divucci three times recently. The first couple times, he was a perfect gentleman, shaking my hand on the first date and giving me a peck on the cheek on the second date. But on our third date, he said he wanted to get to know the real me and he started to rip off my clothes. I slapped him and was able to catch a bus home. This is why I tell my mother in my letters that I haven't met any nice men in California. I don't think Horace and Mike would count with her.

  


Sunday, July 24, 1977

Poor Horace and Mike's apartment was burglarized again! Other places have been hit, too. I hope we're not next.

  


Sunday, July 31, 1977

I've taken over all the bills since Eleanor left, although we used to split managing them. Chrissy is not the dumb blonde some people think she is, but she can be a little scattered and my math is better than hers. As for Jack, I'll be honest and say that I still half don't believe this living arrangement is going to work out, although so far we're all getting along. And Larry so far is keeping his trap shut about Jack being straight.

Anyway, somehow we ended up behind on the rent. I actually found out last month, after Eleanor moved out and before Jack moved in. I don't know if Eleanor knew and forgot to tell me, what with the distractions of her pregnancy and the return of her ex-boyfriend, or if she just messed up keeping track, again because she was distracted. Or maybe, since she's a freelance photographer, she was hoping for one of the windfalls she'd sometimes get.

When Jack moved in, we asked for his share of the rent ($100), to pay the previous month's rent. But we were still behind. This month, we've been setting cash aside for the rent kitty when we can. We've finally scraped together enough to at least pay for July, and hopefully we'll catch up sometime. I've put the money in an envelope marked "RENT" and then sealed it. I'll hide it under the little transistor radio on the whatnot in the living room, like usual. Mr. Roper is coming by for it tomorrow evening at six, but I want to be prepared. And I'll make what excuses I can about the gap.

Last month, we kind of got away with it because Chrissy and I had changed roommates, but that's no longer going to work. And Roper warned me and Chrissy that if we ever skip a month again, he'll throw us and our "fairy friend" out on the street.

  


Tuesday, August 2, 1977

Oh, God, our rent money was stolen! And the police don't believe us. I doubt Mr. Roper will.

Yesterday started out as an ordinary Monday. I went to the flower shop and it was steady more than busy, since it's late in the tourist season and it was the beginning of the week.

I took the bus home, since it was too hot to walk. I stopped off at the mailbox and then headed upstairs. And, OK, I was curious about a piece of mail that Jack got without a return address, so I was holding it up to the light when he snuck up behind me at the landing.

It turned out that he'd been ogling me from behind from the moment I got off the bus. He told me, "I mean, I know there's not a lot of you, but you move it around nicely." He's been flirtier with me ever since Larry told him about the drunken strip-tease, although he still pays more attention to Chrissy of course. Not that I need that sort of attention! But, OK, I was flattered, and distracted enough to not notice what he noticed after we came in.

When I asked if he ever thinks about anything besides sex, he said he was now thinking about how he opened the front door without a key. I thought maybe Chrissy was home, but she didn't answer when we called out to her. This morning, Jack left the apartment after Chrissy and I headed out to work, but he said he locked up.

Then I thought it might be burglars, especially considering poor Horace and Mike. At first, it didn't look like anything had been taken, but I was worried that the burglars were still there. Jack reluctantly went to look in my and Chrissy's bedroom, since he is the man. And he pretended to be four men and a Doberman, to scare the burglars. No one was in there, so I had him check his own room. It was a mess, but apparently that's just because Jack is a slob sometimes. (He keeps the kitchen immaculate of course.) I had him check the bathroom, too. (After all, not that long ago, Chrissy found a man who might've been a burglar in there.)

The burglars seemed to be long gone. And I might've thought that Jack had just been careless about locking up when he left for school, but then I saw that the radio and the rent envelope were both missing from the whatnot. I didn't care about the radio much, but our rent!

Jack suggested we check behind the whatnot, and we were doing that when Chrissy came in and tapped me on the shoulder. I screamed, which startled Jack into hopping like a frog into the bathroom. And that scared Chrissy, too.

We all sat down in the living room and I asked Chrissy if she'd seen the rent money. She said she moved it when she took the radio in to be repaired. (The volume knob is missing.) I was relieved, until she said she put the envelope back on the shelf.

Jack called the police and an officer got there pretty quickly. I was able to report that there were no signs of forcible entry. (I watch _Police Woman_ every week.) Unfortunately, I failed to remember the key that we leave in the flower pot on the railing, just in case one of us forgets his or her key. I also didn't think about the fact that the burglars didn't take the TV, which is probably the most valuable portable item we own.

I very nicely asked the policeman to explain that our rent money was stolen, knowing that Roper would believe him more than us. Unfortunately, the cop thought we were pulling a stunt to get out of paying the rent. He thought we were scammers, and not very good ones, since we didn't know how to fake a burglary convincingly. He almost arrested us!

Mr. Roper showed up a couple minutes after the policeman left. Chrissy and I were sure he would throw us out, but Jack convinced us to hide out at the Beagle, so we snuck off, literally behind Mr. Roper's back. We stayed a couple hours, getting drinks and dinner, and then snuck back.

We still didn't have any kind of plan when Chrissy brought it up over breakfast. I suggested she get money from her boss who's always chasing her around, but she said she'd have to let him catch her.

Then Jack came in wearing an undershirt and what I thought were briefs! It turned out to be his bathing suit. I was more repulsed than aroused, not that Jack didn't look good, but I didn't want to deal with his indecency, especially first thing in the morning. I decided it was OK, although Jack didn't see what difference it made. Chrissy made me laugh when she pointed out that Jack's actual undershorts have giraffes. 

I scolded, "You don't catch us walking around in our underwear."

He flirtatiously said, "You've been too quick for me."

Chrissy asked if Jack could borrow the money from a friend. Well, I knew Larry wouldn't loan $300, even if he had it. (He and Jack are getting to be pretty good friends, since they both like to hit on women at the Beagle.) The only friend Jack could think of that has that kind of money is Charlie, who's in jail. Chrissy was equally "helpful" with her suggestion that we hold a garage sale, although we'd have to rent a garage.

Then after Jack asked if I could get a loan and I told him I'm always turned down, he thought of going to the Financial Aid Department at his school. He half-joked that to make his story sadder, he should tell them Chrissy and I are pregnant. He'll visit Financial Aid today and let us know how it goes when he gets home.

  


Wednesday, August 3, 1977

Well, things worked out OK with the rent, although I was pretty worried there. It turned out Jack couldn't get a loan because his father makes too much money, so Jack isn't a "hardship case."

The Ropers came by right after he told us about it, so he suggested we sneak down to the Beagle again. But Mr. Roper invited us all to dinner that night. And it turned out that when he came up to fix the sink on Monday, he saw the rent envelope and took it. He forgot to give us the receipt, which is annoying, considering all our stress. But, hey, the man was taking us out to dinner, so we didn't complain.


	9. August 13, 1977

Saturday, August 13, 1977

It's my birthday and it's not at all going the way I expected. I thought I might be a little melancholy about turning twenty-three, officially in my mid-twenties now, although I still look college-aged. I'm not married and in fact still haven't had any serious romances, or even close. I love my job but is it a career that I can devote a lifetime to? I felt lucky to at least have two good roommates, but now I'm not so sure about that.

I knew that Jack and Chrissy were planning a "surprise birthday party" for me. That is, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, since I knew and even recommended the bakery to Jack (on the same block as the flower shop, since Mr. Compton has arranged that he and his employees get a friendly mutual discount with them). And it wouldn't be a party in the sense that Eleanor's wedding reception was a party. It was just going to be the three of us, but Jack was making a special dinner. He thought of inviting the Ropers, but Mr. Roper's niece was supposed to be visiting from New York, and Jack didn't want to include a stranger if we weren't going to invite Larry and other friends and neighbors.

While Jack was at the bakery, Chrissy was typing some work she brought home for extra money, but she promised she'd be done in plenty of time for "the you know what." I couldn't help going into the kitchen to take a peek in the stove. I didn't hear Jack come back, and he startled me by sneaking up, so I startled him by turning around suddenly.

He was sneaking up to give me a birthday kiss. I told him to go ahead, expecting a nice little peck on the cheek or maybe the lips. He joked that the moment had passed and he'd go sneak up and kiss Chrissy. I reminded him that her birthday isn't until January.

"Why wait till the last minute?"

I grabbed his arm and told him I wanted my birthday kiss.

He cupped my chin for a moment and then did some "smooth" moves like he was approaching a woman at a disco. I tried not to laugh. But then he took me in his arms and dipped me, kissing me for five seconds that felt like an eternity, in a good way. It wasn't like it was a tongue-kiss but his lips were so warm and intent. I felt a little dizzy, and not just from the dipping.

He set me back on my feet, his arms still holding me close. I was so dazed that I wished him a happy birthday. He told me that it was "his pleasure."

I tried to back away before I did or said something I'd regret. But the chain to my grandmother's cameo got hooked around the button of the pocket on his denim jacket. I really wish that I could get the cameo out of hock, since it's been three months and it's one of my favorite gifts from Nonna. (The other being the white vase she gave me as a going-away gift when I moved out to California last year.) I still wear the chain on special occasions, like my birthday.

Jack said, "Let's not waste this closeness."

I said, "Well, let's just save that for next year." I wasn't sure if I was joking, since I could feel his warm hands through my plaid shirt and sense the warmth of the rest of his body so close to mine.

We managed to unhook the chain and I told him about the cameo. Then Chrissy called Jack into the living room, so he told me, "Sorry, Kid, you had your chance, hoo-ah!"

I laughed as he left. Even when he's acting conceited, he's kind of adorable. And, no, I don't think my crush is going anywhere. But I think I can contain myself, even as I wonder what will happen on my next birthday.

But there's more to say about this one, even though it's not over yet. A couple minutes later, Chrissy came into the kitchen and scolded, "No peeking at the you-know-what, Janet!"

"What?" I teased.

"You know."

"I'm just making sure it doesn't burn before Jack comes back."

"Uh huh. Well, Mr. Roper wanted to talk to him about something private, so that may take awhile."

"Private, huh?" I drifted over to the door.

"You're in a very snoopy mood today, for some reason." She still eavesdropped with me.

Mr. Roper was asking if Jack ever goes out with girls or if that's against the rules. He used the example of himself going out with the guys, in the sense of bowling nights. Jack said he supposed he could do that with a girl. Mr. Roper said he wouldn't want Jack to "do anything against his religion."

Chrissy and I were doing our best to stifle our laughter so they wouldn't overhear us. And then Mr. Roper asked if Jack could take out the visiting niece. Jack told Mr. Roper of our plans for my birthday. Roper suggested postponing my birthday but Jack politely told him no.

As soon as we heard the door close, Chrissy and I went into the living room, laughing a little, but Jack was laughing a little, too. I couldn't help quoting the "religion" thing. But I was also touched by Jack turning Roper down on my account, and I told him so. Jack admitted that he wasn't that noble, since he imagined what Roper's niece must look like. I still thought it was really nice of him, and I gave him a peck on the cheek.

Jack said he wouldn't miss my birthday for anything, but then, after Chrissy hinted that Jack should pick up the wine for the you-know-what, Roper returned with his niece, Karen. She turned out to be a very pretty blue-eyed blonde, and Jack of course noticed.

While Roper talked to Jack privately again, this time in the kitchen, Chrissy and I got a little acquainted with Karen. We asked about her trip from New York and if she's enjoying her stay with her aunt and uncle so far. She said the plane ride was exciting, her first, and Uncle Stanley and Aunt Helen have been very nice, although she thinks he must've had an accident, since he can't remember anything that's happened since The War. Chrissy and I looked at each other and tried not to laugh.

But then when the men returned, Mr. Roper said Jack had something he wanted to ask Karen. And Jack asked Karen out! 

I was so hurt and angry and, OK, jealous, I couldn't speak, but Chrissy, indignant on my behalf, asked about the party. Jack said to take the dinner out of the stove in twenty minutes and he'd be back in plenty of time for the party. And he left with Karen. Mr. Roper seemed oblivious to how Chrissy and I felt and he was just happy that Jack had done him a favor. Of course he thinks Jack is gay and thus "safe." He called Jack a nice person, but after I closed the door, I called Jack a "nice fink."

Chrissy said, "I can't believe he'd do that to you!"

"I can. You know what he's like around pretty girls."

"But even so. That's really rotten of him and we should tell him off when he gets back."

I shook my head. "Who needs him? We were fine without him before he moved in, and I don't need finks at my party."

"You're right, Janet. Tell you what, I'll go get the wine and we'll have a wonderful celebration, with or without Jack."

I gave her a hug. "You're the best, Chrissy."

"Awww, you'd do it for me."

I would. But then Jack probably wouldn't run out on Chrissy's birthday party.

I'm such an idiot, getting further infatuated with Jack when I know he was just playing with me in the kitchen and that was a pity kiss. I wish I could just shut off my crush like a light switch. Even if he weren't out with a girl much prettier (and a little younger) than I am, he is my roommate and I should not be having thoughts about more kisses with him. I am supposed to be the sensible one, keeping Jack and Chrissy from giving in to their attraction. I hate him for being a fink and a lech, and I wish I didn't like him so much.

I can't tell Chrissy all this of course. It would make things even more awkward. I'm glad I have you to write in, and this opportunity to spill my guts. But she'll be back with the wine soon. I'll try not to get too drunk and talkative, even if in vino veritas, as my high school Latin teacher used to say.


	10. August 14, 1977

Sunday, August 14, 1977

Well, I no longer hate Jack. As for the other stuff, well, I'll get to that.

Chrissy came back with the wine and had me stay in the bedroom while she set up "the party." Obviously, she didn't go crazy with streamers and everything, like we did for Eleanor's reception. But she got us party hats and put a yellow tablecloth and pink plastic plates on the table, which she dragged into the living room. She also put out glasses for the wine. Then she knocked on our bedroom door and when I opened it, she quietly said, "Surprise."

I went in the living room and sat down. She handed me a small gift-wrapped box. There was a lovely scarf in shades of brown. I thanked her and put it on. I honestly didn't feel like celebrating, despite her thoughtfulness, because it reminded me of how thoughtless my other roommate was.

We clinked glasses and said, "Cheers," in a not very cheerful way. I couldn't help hitting the hat on Jack's plate, wishing his head was inside.

Chrissy, although she was as surprised and angry at Jack running out on us, was trusting enough to think Jack would keep his word about returning in time for the party, but I knew better. I admitted that I didn't like how attractive Karen was, and that Jack of course noticed.

Chrissy said we were both jealous, although we don't own Jack. I denied it, only admitting my anger. She reminded me that Jack lives with us for one third of the rent, and because he can cook and play "watchdog." I thought of what happened with the "burglars" a couple weeks ago, how I'd worried over nothing, but it had been comforting to have him here. I just told her he should be here watching me blow out my birthday candle.

And then, maybe it was the bit of wine I'd had, or maybe it was Chrissy's mention of jealousy, but I felt like maybe admitting my crush. Instead of blurting it out though, I asked, "Chrissy, do you dig him?" I didn't mean, did she understand him, although I wondered that, too, because I feel sometimes like he's a riddle I have to solve, although he's very obvious on the surface.

She hesitated and then said, "He's okay."

I slowly said, "No. No, I mean, if he wasn't living here, would you...?" I mean, obviously she's attracted to Jack, but how far would she take it? And does she see him differently because he's our roommate and we've all got this agreement that we won't fool around with him, and he won't seriously try anything.

"Would I what?"

"You know." I didn't want to say it and I didn't think I had to.

"Jack?"

"Yeah."

"Would you?"

"I asked you first." I didn't want to admit my crush just yet. And I don't know that I would take it that far, even if I would like to kiss him some more. "Would you?"

"No."

"Oh." I was surprised and felt funny about my feelings, like maybe she wouldn't understand how I felt, although I also felt relief that there are limits to her attraction to him.

Then she continued, "Not unless he asked me to. Well, you know me, Janet. I just hate to be rude."

We both laughed and then dropped the subject. I'm glad she made a joke out of it, although part of me did want to talk to her about it. I mean, yes, it helps to write in you, but I wish there was a girl I could confide in. Obviously, I can't write to my sisters about it, because, one, my family can't know I'm living with a man, and two, June has had one steady boyfriend since high school and wouldn't understand, and Jenny is just a kid, no matter that she's starting college at seventeen in a few weeks. I suppose I could write to Eleanor, but I don't want her to worry about the living situation, since I want her to think everything is fine since she left. (It's the same reason I don't share my rent worries.)

I remembered my anger at Jack and said I wanted to break his leg. But we went on with the party. Jack never showed up, and I didn't feel much like eating a cake for some guy named "Jimmy" that Jack got on sale. (Chrissy said Jack had been planning to scrape off the "immy.")

Chrissy and I ended up turning in, leaving the cake, the wine, and everything on the table. We planned to clean up in the morning.

I couldn't sleep, just tossing and turning, and trying to deal with all my feelings about Jack. And then he came home after midnight, saying he was just a little late. That made me even angrier, so I yelled at him through the bedroom door. But then when he wanted me to come out and talk to him, I clammed up.

So he told me, us, through the door that he was moving out. That was taking it too far!

We got out of bed and went into the living room. We told him off but also told him that he doesn't have to move out just for missing my birthday party.

Then he told us that Roper's car overheated on the freeway and Roper's niece on the living room sofa. Jack swore nothing happened but Roper caught them and thought the worst. So he wanted to evict Jack.

My anger shifted to Mr. Roper, who showed up shortly after. Before Roper could say a word, I told him, "Listen, You! This is a partnership here. And if you throw one of us out, then you throw us all out."

He agreed with me, which wasn't what I was going for. I did not want to be evicted, especially on my birthday.

He'd actually come up to apologize. He said that Karen claimed she practically attacked Jack and he showed no interest at all. I highly doubted that, but it was nice of Karen to cover for Jack when she didn't have to. Jack wasn't thrilled when Roper said he told Karen that Jack is a "fairy," but Jack was relieved that he didn't have to move out. Chrissy and I were, too, of course.

But then Chrissy said it was still really mean of Jack to not come to my party. He said he had to run a special errand. I told him to can it, because what kind of special errand could he be running on a Saturday night, particularly with Roper's gorgeous niece in the car?

Then he handed over Nonna's cameo! I took it and clipped it onto the chain, feeling dazed and wordless. Chrissy asked him where he got the money, and he said he couldn't waste Roper's money on Karen.

I looked up at him, on the verge of tears. Jack teased that he hates the silent treatment. I flung my arms around his neck. He held me close and sweetly. Chrissy joined our hug, and I am so grateful to have a friend like her.

But Jack, what am I going to do about Jack? If Karen hadn't spoken up, I wouldn't have to live with this awful, wonderful man who stirs so many of my emotions like no one ever has before. And I know he must care for me, to do something so thoughtful, but he will never really see me like I want to be seen. I'll have to learn to live with him, because I don't know if I could live without him now.

We still made him clean up the party mess of course.


	11. August 28-31, 1977

Sunday, August 28, 1977

I'm a little worried about Chrissy. She sleep-walked last week. I woke up in the middle of Friday night to get a drink of water and she wasn't in bed. She'd had a date and I didn't, so I'd turned in before she got home, but she should've been back by then. The thing is, her bed did look slept in. My first thought was actually that she'd gone to bed with Jack, but I know I have to trust her. And I doubt they'd try anything when I'm in the next room.

I then noticed that the door was open, and I was sure I shut it before I went to sleep. I got up and went out to the living room, where Chrissy was slowly walking towards the kitchen. I figured she was getting a midnight snack. (Although she has a great figure, she also has a sweet tooth and has a hard time sticking to a diet. But she exercises a lot.) I quietly called out to her, but she didn't seem to hear me. She just kept going.

I followed her into the kitchen and said, "Leave me a slice of Jack's pie."

She still didn't react. And then I noticed her eyes were shut.

"Chrissy, are you awake?"

Still no reaction. I didn't want to startle her, but I lightly put my hand on her arm. She blinked. "Janet? What are we doing in the kitchen?"

"I think you were sleep-walking."

"Oh no! I haven't sleep-walked since I moved to L.A."

"You've done this before?"

"Yeah, off and on ever since I was a kid. I was under a lot of pressure being a minister's only child. I was expected to be perfect, at school and Sunday school and everywhere else. And when the pressure got to be too much, I'd start walking in my sleep."

"Are you feeling under pressure now?"

"Yeah, there's been some stuff at work lately."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I just want to get some sleep."

I didn't press it, and I don't think she walked in her sleep last night, so hopefully it was just a one-time thing, an old habit that came back for a moment. But I did want to note it in case it's part of a bigger problem.

I hope she's not worrying about the rent. I know Jack was stressing out about that some. He could've used the $50 that Roper gave him to take out Karen, but he doesn't seem to regret getting my cameo out of hock. He ended up borrowing $25 from Larry, who's usually more of a borrower than a lender, but the guys have really hit it off. Larry makes pretty good money as a used-car salesman, but he also spends a lot, and he rents a studio apartment by himself, so his rent is higher than Jack's.

I'm going to walk the rent down in a little bit. Yeah, Mr. Roper will be shocked that it's early. (Well, we're still a month behind, but now it's only four weeks behind I guess.) I'm also going to loan Mrs. Roper a trashy novel that I've been reading for escapism. She came over and saw me reading it Friday evening, when Jack and Chrissy were both out on their dates. I was actually asked out for Friday and Saturday, three different guys, but I could tell they were all just out for sex, and I'd rather read about it than do it, especially with someone I don't love or even like. Anyway, I admitted that the book is spicy, so I promised to loan it to her.

  


Tuesday, August 30, 1977

I'm writing this on my lunch break because I really don't want to write it in front of Chrissy, since it concerns her. Yes, she's sleep-walking again. And I might not have found out this time if I hadn't loaned that spicy novel to Mrs. Roper.

She called out to me as I was about to head upstairs after work yesterday. She wanted to return the book, which she'd already finished, well, the pages I'd turned down the corners of, blush. Then she wanted to sit and chat because Mr. Roper isn't much of a talker. She told me that their twentieth anniversary is on Wednesday, and all they'll probably do to celebrate is watch _Baretta_ and _Charlie's Angels_. She makes me laugh with her complaints about Mr. Roper, although I do feel sorry for her. She's like a favorite aunt, although more colorful (literally in those muumuus) than any of my aunts.

Mr. Roper came back from a doctor's appointment. No, there's nothing wrong with him, but Mrs. Roper says that makes him feel like he isn't getting his money's worth. I tried hinting about the anniversary, but he didn't get it.

I was about to head upstairs when he wanted to talk to me about Chrissy. He looked out the window at three a.m. and saw her walking around in her nightgown. He wasn't concerned about her safety, but just with the "decency" of this neighborhood. I can't believe she made it all the way downstairs and onto the sidewalk. What if she'd wandered into the street? I mean, there wouldn't have been much traffic at three in the morning, but still. And I feel so guilty that I slept through this and couldn't protect her.

She was already home when I got there, so I immediately told her what Mr. Roper said. She was embarrassed, but I was more worried about her safety. I made her tell me what she's stressed about. She's covering for Mr. Rogers's secretary this week, since the girl is out sick. Chrissy knew about this on Friday, and she knew about his reputation as "Christopher Columbus," as in the explorer. He can't keep his hands to himself, and she can't complain to anyone because he's the boss.

I didn't have any solutions for her, and when Jack came home his solution was a cute little puppy in a box. Larry somehow ended up with a litter of puppies, and he promised to cancel Jack's debt of $25 if Jack took one. I reminded Jack of Roper's rule, "No dogs or babies." He joked that we're "keeping half of the bargain, so far," and leered at Chrissy.

I told Jack that Roper would evict us all if we kept the dog. He said Larry would never take the dog back. Then who should show up but Larry?

He brought over a rubber bone for the puppy. And when Jack and I tried to tell him we can't keep the puppy, he tried to manipulate Chrissy, who had quickly fallen in love with the dog. Larry hinted that he'd put the dog to sleep, but after Larry left with the puppy, Jack told Chrissy that Larry didn't mean it. I could see Chrissy was on the verge of tears, while Jack got defensive. I decided we could try to get away with hiding the puppy. After all, Eleanor successfully hid her pregnancy for months, and Roper still hasn't caught on, after two months, that Jack is straight. So I told Jack to go get the dog.

Larry was waiting right outside the door, as if he knew we'd give in. (He is a successful salesman after all, although not as successful with women as he pretends.)

I didn't sleep too well, what with worrying about hiding the puppy and dealing with Chrissy's problems. So when she got out of bed and wandered out, I got up, too. I grabbed my slippers and put them on in the living room. She wasn't there, but the front door was wide open. I pounded on Jack's door because I didn't want to deal with this alone this time.

We followed Chrissy downstairs, and he made a lot of noise, tripping over things and yelling. I didn't want him to startle her, but she slept right through my gently guiding her back upstairs and into our bedroom. She got back into bed, but I hoped she wouldn't walk again that night. Jack joked he'd leave his bedroom door open, so I glared at him.

I went back to bed and hoped I could get some sleep. I tossed and turned and then I looked over and noticed that Chrissy's bed was empty. This time I put on my robe as well as my slippers, in case I had to follow her outside again. The front door was shut, which was a good sign. Hopefully she was just sleep-walking around the apartment. And then I heard Chrissy giggling in the kitchen, and I didn't think it was sleep-giggling.

I listened at the door in shock and then disgust and then blended shock and disgust, as Jack and Chrissy seemed to sweet-talk each other. And then when it sounded like they were going to have sex on the floor, I had to burst in and tell them to knock it off, although I turned my head away. Then Jack said hi, and it turned out they were just fussing over and feeding the puppy.

The doorbell rang and Jack answered. It was Roper, asking if we had a dog in our apartment! He heard the puppy whimpering, which Jack managed to pass off as himself whimpering from bumping into things. Well, Roper called Jack a very strange person, but he already thought that because of the "gay" thing. As I feared, Roper said that if we did have a dog, he'd kick us all out.

I know we have to get rid of the dog, and even Chrissy reluctantly agrees. Jack is going to skip school today so he can mind the puppy and call around to his friends, to see if he can find someone to take her. (Yes, it's a girl dog, so even if we kept her, we'd have to make sure we got her fixed.) What I don't get is how Larry managed to hide a whole litter, since he lives in this building, too. Then again, he doesn't live right above the Ropers.

  


Wednesday, August 31, 1977

Jack didn't have any luck finding someone to take the puppy, but Chrissy did.

But first Mr. Roper ate dog food. Mrs. Roper came up to borrow some milk for dinner last night, which meant she went into the kitchen. And she spotted the bowl of dog food on the table. Jack passed it off as beef bourguignon, but she was surprised there was so little of it. I said it was leftovers and I was about to throw it out. Then she wanted to serve it to Mr. Roper.

Jack tried to stop her from leaving with the bowl but failed. I thought it was hilarious, and after all it was only horse meat. Also, to be honest, it served him right, after all his threats to evict us lately.

Jack raced downstairs and threw Mr. Roper's dinner down the garbage disposal. It turned out that it was actually Mrs. Roper's leftover stew, so Mr. Roper ate the dog food after all, although we didn't find that out until this morning. He loved it, and we're certainly not going to tell him.

I was getting some coffee after breakfast when Jack came into the kitchen and said that the puppy wasn't in her box in the bathroom. It turned out that Chrissy put the dog on the Ropers' doorstep, since she figured that Mrs. Roper would like it since she has parakeets. (Typical Chrissy-logic.)

Jack and I tried to reason with her, but she was trying to get to work. Then Mrs. Roper showed up on our doorstep, holding the puppy. She saw Chrissy leave the puppy. Chrissy said she must've been sleep-walking again. Mrs. Roper pointed out that Chrissy had been wearing her robe and slippers.

I was about to try to come up with a good lie, when Mr. Roper came in and we found out he ate Jack's "gourmet dish." But he was distracted by the dog. Mrs. Roper acted as if it was a surprise anniversary gift from him, although he clearly hadn't remembered that it's their anniversary today. He looked confused, but not as confused as Jack, who hadn't known about the anniversary or about the stew.

And now, as Chrissy said, we have visiting rights to the puppy. As for Larry and the rest of the litter, it turns out that it's not his litter. The puppies belong to a girl he's trying to impress.

Oh, and I came up with a solution to Chrissy's problems, both the sleep-walking and Mr. Rogers. I suggested she tell him she has a fiancé back in Fresno.


	12. September 4-11, 1977

Sunday, September 4, 1977

I got a perm on Thursday. I've gotten a lot of compliments on it and even a date. Unfortunately, Bob kept looking for a parking place on our date last night, for his hands. Yet I think I'll keep my hair curly for awhile, even though my parents still haven't gotten over my not having long, straight hair since I moved to California. (Jenny still wears hers like that, even though she's in college now. But then, she lives at home.)

  


Friday, September 9, 1977

Normally I'd wait until Sunday, while Chrissy's in church, to update you, but I'm mad at both her and Jack.

My perm got me another date with a new guy, Alex. He's more conservative than I usually go for, but very cute. Tall, thin, with brown hair. I know what you're thinking, but Alex is taller and his eyes are brown. OK, and his hairline is receding a little. He's thirty and, unlike most of the guys I go out with, he makes good money, as a banker. Anyway, I figured he'd be a change from the grabbers like Bob.

He took me to a classical concert, so I dressed up a little, with a light-colored floral dress that comes down to mid-calf, with a red vest and red platforms, the latter because of the height difference. Alex wore a suit and tie. The concert was a little dull, but sometimes dull can be a nice change. And Alex himself seemed pleasant enough.

I knew that Chrissy had a date and Jack said he was going to hang out at the Beagle with Larry. So after the concert, I asked Alex over for coffee. Unfortunately, Jack changed his mind about going out and he strolled into the living room. I'd told Alex that I share my apartment with a girl, which wasn't a total lie. And I'd told Alex that I have a brother and two sisters, but I hadn't said their names. So I now claimed that Jack is my brother. (Jonah is brunet, but he has the Wood brown eyes and he's shorter than Jack.) Alex bought it and he said he should've noticed the resemblance.

Jack was joking around and I was worried he was going to blow it for me, so I asked to talk to him in the kitchen. He called me "Sis" and started to tell Alex about "the time we were taking a bath together." I yanked him into the kitchen.

I told him that I didn't think that Alex is the type to believe a man and a woman could live together platonically. So he said, "Let's try something he will believe," and mimed tearing my dress off!

I sent him down to the Regal Beagle. He said he'd go for an hour, but I asked him to stay out real late. I liked Alex enough that I wanted to neck on the couch, without interruptions. Jack teased me and of course he had to clown around in front of Alex before he left, but he did go.

After I shut the door on Jack, I said, "Let me get that coffee."

"Would you like some help? I'm very good at reaching high shelves."

"Yes, thank you."

So we went in the kitchen and I threw away the bitten apple Jack had tossed at me. I pointed at the not-very-high shelf where we keep the coffee mugs. Alex set two on the counter, while I started the coffee-maker.

"Well, we'll just have to wait for that to brew," I said.

"Mm hm," he said, like I was speaking in innuendo. And then he leaned down and kissed me.

I didn't have a chance to decide whether he was a good kisser, or how far we should take this in the kitchen, when Chrissy burst in and said, "Oops!"

Alex backed away and said, "Oh, you must be Janet's roommate."

"Well, one of them."

"Ha ha, Chrissy is such a kidder. Excuse us, Alex, Chrissy and I need to discuss something in the other room."

"Nice meeting you," Chrissy said over her shoulder as I dragged her out of the kitchen and into our bedroom. I didn't want Alex to overhear any of this, like he would've if we talked in the living room.

After I shut our door, Chrissy said, "Janet, I'm sorry I walked in on you, but I can stay in here the rest of the evening and not disturb you."

I shook my head. "You kicked me and Jack out last night when you had a date, so now it's your turn."

"But, Janet, two wrongs don't make a right."

"Go!" I pointed.

She shook her head but didn't argue. I looked in the mirror and fixed my makeup, since Alex had smeared my lipstick a little. I was about to rejoin him, when he appeared in the open doorway, holding two mugs of coffee.

"Get it while it's hot," he said.

"Oh, thank you," I said, taking one of the mugs. "Shall we adjourn to the living room?"

"Oh, this room looks nice and cozy." He sat on Chrissy's bed and set his mug on her nightstand.

"You're on my roommate's bed."

"Oh, sorry." He went over and lay down on my bed.

I set my mug down on the dresser. "Look, Alex, I like you, but I never meant to lead you on."

"Well, you did invite me back to your place, and get rid of your brother and your roommate."

Blushing, I said, "I figured we could kiss and maybe make out a little, but I don't go to bed with anyone."

"Hey, don't knock it until you try it. And I'm great with virgins."

"Yeah, it must be that incredible sensitivity and insight you have."

He smiled, missing my sarcasm, as he'd missed Jack's. "And I'm very patient."

"Patient?! We just had our first kiss a few minutes ago."

"Don't worry, I'll give you all the foreplay you need. It's Friday and I don't have to go to work tomorrow."

I almost laughed and asked him if it'd be wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am if it wasn't the start of the weekend. Instead, I said, "I appreciate the offer, but I think it'd be better if you just drink your coffee and go."

He frowned. "I didn't think you'd be such a tease, Janet." 

I told you how I was dressed and I assure that my behavior had been mildly flirty, at most. I was about to tell him off, when I heard Jack call, "Janet, Chrissy and I are home, whether you like it or not."

"I'm in the middle of a very personal discussion, if you don't mind, Brother Dear."

"Well, take it in the bedroom."

"Um, I think they are in the bedroom," Chrissy said.

Jack appeared in the doorway and saw Alex getting up from my bed and straightening his clothes. In that mock-Southern accent he adopted when he told Alex he was the smallest of my six protective older brothers, Jack said, "You better not be messin' with my baby sister, you hear?"

"No, we were just having some coffee. Goodnight, Janet!" Alex raced out of the apartment, whether he was afraid of Jack or mad at me, I don't know. I would've laughed, but I was too mad at everyone.

"Get out!" I yelled at Jack.

"Janet," Chrissy began, appearing next to Jack.

I threw her pillow at her, knocking over Alex's mug. "You can sleep on the couch tonight!" Then I slammed the door in both their faces.

I cleaned up the mess from the broken mug as best as I could with what I had in here, since I didn't feel like going to the kitchen. Then I got you out. I've cooled down some, but not enough to let Chrissy back in the room. And I don't even want to speak to Jack, because I'm angrier at him than I am at her.

This is going to be a hell of a weekend.

  


Saturday, September 10, 1977

Since I have the apartment to myself tonight, I want to update you on what's happened since last night. This morning at breakfast, I was still so upset, I accidentally poured ketchup all over my eggs! I called Jack "an interfering jackass of a roommate," and he pretended I meant Chrissy.

He did come up with some ground rules, where if someone wants the apartment for a date, he or she has to give the other two twenty-four hours' notice. I know, we've been living together two-and-a-half months, but it honestly hadn't come up before, because it's only recently that Chrissy and I have been bringing dates home, and Jack usually goes to his dates' places. (When Eleanor lived here, I didn't date much and of course she stopped dating after she and Teddy broke up and she found out she was pregnant.) He insisted on no exceptions and no changes.

Then he and Chrissy claimed Sunday through Friday. I wanted to squeeze in somewhere between now and Christmas, so they gave me tonight. I'm going to watch _The Maltese Falcon_ with Humphrey Bogart, because I've always wanted to see it.

Chrissy went to answer the ringing phone. Jack offered to call up Alex and ask him to give me another chance. I said that was a stupid idea. I mean, Alex turned out to be such a creep, I'm sort of glad Jack and Chrissy interrupted, although I still would've rather dealt with it on my own. Jack said that was no way to talk to "my brother."

The phone was for Jack, and it turned out his Sunday date got switched to Saturday, so he wanted to trade nights with me. Of all the nerve! The ground rules had only been in effect for two minutes.

Anyway, I love Humphrey Bogart and it'll be nice to have the apartment to myself, without Jack doing Bogie and Peter Lorre impressions. Although they are pretty good imitations.

  


Sunday, September 11, 1977

I didn't get to watch Bogart last night. The sound went out on the TV. Chrissy had come home to plead to switch nights because she was going out with Eddie, a guy from her office. (The "fiancé" lie is over, now that she doesn't have to worry about Mr. Rogers's hands.) So I let her have the apartment, and I went to see _Annie Hall_ again.

Before I left, I told her about my problem with Bob's hands last week. She said, "Why can't a guy realize that when a girl says no she really means no?" But then she added, "Except when she means maybe."

I laughed with her. I knew she didn't mean something like rape but more like those times when you're not sure. Like how I wanted to make out with Alex but he moved too fast and too far. And if I'd really liked him and he'd been patient, then I don't know, maybe it could've led to more someday. If he weren't a big jerk I mean.

While I was watching Alvy and Annie's difficult relationship play out again, Eddie turned out to be handsy, so Chrissy didn't actually invite him in. And instead Jack jumped her! He swears it was because Chrissy looked like his date, Veronica, in the dark and with her back turned.

I saw Veronica very briefly when I came home and she said, "And who's this one, another sister?"

I said, "Right, our friends call us Donny and Marie."

Veronica has long, wavy blonde hair and she was wearing a maroon dress like Chrissy's, although hers was lowcut and Chrissy's had a turtleneck. Veronica called Jack a sickie and ran out. He yelled after her that he's not a sickie, just a liar.

Mr. Roper apparently had told Jack that the apartment was empty, when he (Roper) came by to fix the toilet tank and he didn't want to barge in when nobody was home. So then Jack figured he could have the apartment without telling us. Of course, I would've caught Jack and Veronica even if Chrissy's date hadn't ended early. (Or she, Eddie, Jack, Veronica, and I would've all been here simultaneously.) The new ground rule is if someone is in the apartment when it's not their night, they lose their nights for a whole month.

Oh, and it turned out that when Veronica was freshening up in the bathroom (and Chrissy came home), the toilet tank started to overflow again. But Mr. Roper didn't answer the phone last night. Considering the contented look on Mrs. Roper's face as she carried his toolbox, I think I can guess why.

"So Mr. Roper finally put up a shelf," Jack mused when they arrived half an hour ago. Sometimes I really don't understand his sense of humor.


	13. September 14-17, 1977

Wednesday, September 14, 1977

When I got to work on Monday, I was very surprised to see Mr. Compton there instead of Mr. Murphy. He told me that the jerk quit without giving a full two weeks' notice.

"Gee, that's too bad," I said, even though I never liked Mr. Murphy and I kind of hoped Mr. Compton would make me acting manager. After all, I did more work than Mr. Murphy these past six months, and I was there nine months before that.

"I know, he left the books a mess."

"Well, you know, I'm pretty good at math. I could take a look at them."

"Janet, you're an angel!" Then Mr. Compton tried to pat my bottom!

I stepped away. "Have you thought about who's going to manage the shop now?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about that. I'll get a new guy in here in the next week or so. And I'll keep an eye on things as much as I can this week, so you don't feel overwhelmed."

That wasn't what I was looking for, but I thanked him. He has kept his hands to himself since then but I guess it's no longer true, as it was fifteen months ago, that I'm not his type.

Yesterday he told me that he'd hire an assistant for me soon. "Unlike the new manager, it doesn't have to be anyone who knows about flowers. You can teach 'em the basics, right?"

"Sure, but if I have an assistant, doesn't that make me acting manager?"

"Don't stress about it, Kid. It's just temporary and I know you can hold down the fort for a week or two. This new person will just help out in case things get busy. We are moving into the Fall and the early Halloween orders will start streaming in."

"Right. Um, Mr. Compton, if the new hire doesn't have to be experienced, maybe my roommate could do it."

"The stacked blonde? Yeah, she'd be great for business!"

"No, I mean my other roommate."

"The redhead? She's cute, too, but isn't she preggo?"

"No, she had the baby three months ago. This is my new roommate."

"How cute is she?"

"Um, pretty cute."

"Great! Of course, she'll be making minimum wage."

"That's fine."

I know I should've told him that my new roommate is a man, but it ended up not mattering because when I told Jack last night, he said, "I appreciate the offer, Janet, but the hours wouldn't fit my school schedule."

And then when I got to work today and said, "I'm very sorry, but my roommate is in cooking school and the job wouldn't fit the schedule," Mr. Compton said, "It's fine. I meant to call you last night but I found the perfect girl for the shop."

Then in walked Chloe Stoutmeyer, with her Amazonian figure. Mr. Compton made introductions and then said, "I'll leave Chloe in your capable hands," with a leer behind her back like he wanted his own hands on her.

Well, what could I do but train the new girl? It's not her fault she's built. And she is nice and hard-working, much nicer and more hard-working than Mr. Murphy was. The thing is, she has absolutely no retail experience, so I'm really starting from zero.

I took the books home tonight and am staying in to work on them, while Jack and Chrissy are out on dates. Per our agreement, I called dibs on the apartment twenty-four hours ago, so they're not allowed to bring anyone home and disturb me. But I just had to update you on my work situation.

  


Saturday, September 17, 1977

When Chrissy and I came home last night, me with a bouquet of daisies that were past their sell-by date, Jack was cooking something expensive. We've warned him about going over our food budget. Yes, he's a cooking student, but the school doesn't pay for ingredients at home. Chrissy pointed out that Jack isn't currently working. He said he'd been looking at want ads all day.

I still gave the ads a look, because I might be able to find something he'd missed. Right off I found a job selling encyclopedias door-to-door, where he could set his own hours. He said he thought about it but wouldn't be able to handle the rejection. Chrissy teased that he's had practice with us.

Then I found an ad for male models, $10 an hour! (He would've made only $2.30 at the flower shop.) "Must be tall, young, and good-looking." Jack played modest, so Chrissy and I teased him about the "good-looking" part.

This morning, we helped him get ready for the interview. Chrissy ironed his nice brown slacks and I borrowed a straight razor from Mr. Roper after Jack's electric quit on him. Jack was nervous about shaving with that kind of razor, so Chrissy offered to shave him. Jack was even more dubious about that, so she got a balloon left over from my birthday party and blew it up. I lathered it up with his shaving cream and she demonstrated how she used to shave her grandfather when he was ill, unfortunately popping the balloon on the second swipe. So then Jack ended up shaving with Chrissy's Lady Schick, like he did the first morning we met him, almost three months ago.

After Jack left with our good-luck kisses on his un-stubbly cheek, I told Chrissy, "I need to go to work for a bit."

"On a Saturday? I thought your manager covers the weekends. I mean when you had a manager."

"Mr. Compton is filling in but I promised to bring home the books again."

"Aww, I was hoping you'd go to the beach with me."

"Sorry, Sweetie, I've got homework. You go have fun for both of us."

"I'll try."

I threw on jeans and my buttoned maroon blouse and headed down to the flower shop. Mr. Compton was indeed there, training Chloe. I sort of felt sorry for her, but she probably knew he was a letch when he hired her. And I have my hands full chaperoning Chrissy, although I figured she could protect herself at the beach. Sometimes I get tired of playing big sister to everyone. I would like to have fun myself, but I have to be conscientious.

I've brought home the calendars this time, to trace sales over the summer, see if there's anything I've missed. I will get started soon but I just wanted to update you while I have the apartment unexpectedly to myself. I really hope Jack gets the modeling job. Obviously he is tall, young, and good-looking, but he has no relevant experience. Even if it's just, say, ten hours a week, that's over $400 a month! We might actually catch up on our rent and no longer be a month behind. But right now I've got to focus on the finances for the Santa Monica branch of the Arcade Flower chain.


	14. September 18, 1977

Sunday, September 18, 1977

Oh my, Jack's job hunt took a few unexpected turns yesterday!

When Jack came home in the early afternoon, I was sitting on the floor with my work spread on the little wicker table by the couch. I asked him how the modeling job went.

"Terrific, I'm selling encyclopedias."

It turned out to be nude modeling! I teased that they took one look and rejected him.

He said he rejected them, and when I asked why, he asked, "How would you like to open up one of those kinky sex magazines and see me lying there?"

This time, I teased, "I don't know. I think you'd look pretty cute with a staple through your navel."

As for the encyclopedias, he said he's not worried about rejection anymore, thanks to the sales manual he got from Morris Morris, who's also going to go around with him the first week. I said the man sounded like he should be selling ditto machines.

For every $300 set of encyclopedias Jack sells, he'll get a $50 commission. That's equal to five hours of nude modeling, or about 22 hours working at the flower shop. (Well, Chloe's probably going to get a raise from Mr. Compton, in more ways than one, grrrr.)

I wasn't so sure that selling was as easy as Jack now thought. I mean, I work in retail, and that's people coming into my workplace, not me bothering them at home. But when he wanted me to play a potential customer, I went along with it. I needed a break from my homework and I thought it might be fun. Well, it ended up being more fun than either of us bargained for.

We acted out him knocking at the door, although we were just standing by the couch. I pretended to look through the peephole, because "this is a very rough neighborhood."

When he was "inside my house," he complimented my "lovely three-piece living room set." When I questioned this, he showed me that part of the script in the manual, claiming that it shows what to say "step-by-step in every situation." So I decided to give him an unexpected situation.

I asked him to sit down and then I sat right next to him. He started to read aloud the spiel about the encyclopedias, but before he finished the first sentence, I flung my arms around him and said, "My husband's been away at sea for seventeen months!"

I started kissing up and down the right side of Jack's face, as he kept trying to read.

I cried, "I am so lonely!"

He stopped calling me "Madam" and said, "Come on, Janet." He tried to keep reading the script, while I went back to kissing his face.

Then I lifted his hair and started blowing in his right ear. I could see I was getting to him, by the way he stuttered and moved his eyes. He asked me to stop blowing in his ear.

"Why should I stop? I thought your manual handled every situation."

He pretended to check through the manual as I went back to kissing his face. Then he acted like he found something, tossed aside the manual, and threw me down on the couch! He straddled me and started tickling me. I've got a brother and two sisters, so it's not like I've never been tickled before, but never like that! It was wild and playful and silly and sexy. I wanted him to stop but I also wanted it to keep going.

Then Chrissy walked in and asked what Jack was doing.

"I'm selling her a set of encyclopedias."

I put my hand to my forehead, feeling overwhelmed and no longer giggling. His knees were still around my hips, his hands around my waist.

"That's what I thought you were doing," Chrissy said and sat on the top of the other end of the couch, her back to us.

Jack cupped his chin in one hand and moved his other hand to his own inner thigh. He asked me, "Are you OK?"

"Uh huh," I said breathlessly.

He said, "Good," but tickled me some more!

I pushed him off me with my words and my hands, just as the doorbell rang.

Jack stopped tickling and stood up. He said he just needed to practice on someone. Chrissy said he could practice on her, since it looked like fun. He leered and said he'd love to but he needed a real customer.

I sat up, just as Jack let Mr. Roper in. For some reason, our landlord wanted to know the capital of Ecuador, so I looked it up in the handy encyclopedia. It wasn't until after Roper left that Jack, with some nudging from Chrissy, realized that this would be a perfect customer. He grabbed the D-E volume I'd used, and his sales manual, and raced downstairs.

"So, Janet, how many encyclopedias did he sell you?"

I blushed. "We were just fooling around. I mean kidding around!"

"Uh huh. What happened to you being strong for both of us?"

Chrissy teased me awhile longer but ended with "Don't worry, Janet, I know you're too sensible to fall for Jack."

I am, aren't I? Still what would've happened if Chrissy hadn't come home and/or Roper hadn't dropped by? And why do I keep imagining Jack unbuttoning my maroon blouse and unzipping my jeans? I've never played with fire like that before, and it was scary but exciting. And, I know, Jack would've done the same to Chrissy or any other woman, but you can't say he didn't notice me.

Anyway, while I was making a fresh cup of tea, Morris Morris showed up. Chrissy answered the door and thought he was a customer, but she didn't tell me his name when she went into the kitchen. So then he and I talked up the encyclopedias to each other in the living room until we cleared that up. When he heard that Jack was downstairs selling a set, he got very upset that Jack was doing this alone because of the complicated forms. He ran down to the Ropers' and Chrissy and I followed. The three of us arrived right after Jack and Mr. Roper signed the contract. Unfortunately, they signed in the wrong places, and so Mr. Roper was eligible for the $50 commission from Jack's purchase!

Mr. Roper refused to give up the money, so Jack ripped the contract into tiny pieces. Morris Morris wasn't happy but he didn't fire Jack. They're off going to door-to-door together this morning, while Chrissy's at church and I'm updating you before I get back to the work that Jack interrupted yesterday. Yes, thank goodness he had too much integrity to do the nude-modeling, because I don't want to know that his naked body could be out there somewhere for curious eyes. I'm having a hard enough time forgetting what it was like to feel his body so close to mine and his hands on my stomach.


	15. September 22-25, 1977

Thursday, September 22, 1977

I am sitting in a plastic surgeon's waiting room, playing hooky from work, something I never imagined myself writing.

I took work home again on Tuesday. This time I walked in on Chrissy on top of Jack, both of them in sweatsuits, as he kissed her and she told him to stop. I told them to break it up. He held onto her leg and told her to let go of him.

When they climbed off the couch, she told me it wasn't what it looked like. I kind of figured, after my own experience of being tickled, as well as the time I overheard them fussing over the puppy. (The Ropers, by the way, didn't keep the dog but gave it away to her sister.)

Jack said, "Right. I was just showing Chrissy a foolproof defense against a sex-crazed attacker."

I set down my account books and index box to look at him and say, "Oh, that's very useful, especially while we're living with one."

He said every girl should know self-defense, then he grabbed me and asked what I'd do if some big guy grabbed me? So I did a move my brother taught me, where I swerved and tossed Jack over the couch. Jack was surprised but said I did it wrong. Chrissy told me I was supposed to yell "Ya-ha!"

I went into the bedroom for a minute, and Mr. Roper came by to complain about the noise from all the jumping around. I returned to the living room after he left and started to get set up on the little wicker table. Chrissy remarked on my overtime, and I said that that creep manager left everything at the flower shop in a real mess. And of course now I'm not just cleaning up after Mr. Murphy, but I've got to train Chloe Stoutmeyer.

As I put on my reading glasses, my friends said that Mr. Compton is sure to appreciate me when he picks the new manager. I told them that he's a galloping male chauvinist and every single store in his chain has a male manager. It didn't help when Jack said that Mr. Compton will pick the best man for the job, although I knew what Jack meant. He and Chrissy literally cheered me on to go for the manager's position.

They convinced me to try. I took off my glasses, stood up, called Jack a doll, and gave him a hug. He tried to turn that into necking and didn't stop when I told him to, so I flipped him over my shoulder and onto the floor, this time crying, "Yeee-ahhh!", to Chrissy's approval.

Yesterday morning, I had to go to the open-air market early and pick out tulips, but the ones Mr. Penatelli sent were not the ones I asked for. So, as acting manager, I chewed him out on the phone, channeling some of Nonna's toughness, as one Italian to another. Sales is not just about being nice. You also have to be aggressive when it's called for. I've learned that the past year or so, and I hoped Mr. Compton would see that side of me. But I would have to be aggressive about going after the position.

Meanwhile, yeah, I had to help "the new girl." Chloe made two lovely flower arrangements, but she mixed up the cards, so that "Rest in Peace" would've gone to a Mexican cruise ship, and "Have Fun" to the funeral home. Luckily, I caught that before our delivery guy came by. Chloe beat herself up about it, calling herself dumb. She's not, she's just new.

I went to help an old lady, who turned out to want plastic flowers because they "look more natural." I managed not to laugh.

Then Mr. Compton dropped by. I hoped to be able to talk to him about a promotion.

He asked, "How's the little girl with the big brown eyes?" and patted my bottom.

I moved his hand away and said, "My eyes are up here, Mr. Compton."

He said he has bad aim, like, what, he was going to pat my eyes? He asked how Chloe is doing and I said she's very conscientious. He thanked me for taking over since that jerk walked out and said he had a big surprise for me. Maybe I wouldn't even have to ask for the promotion, he'd just give it to me.

Then Chloe walked out of the store room and he leered at her and made lewd remarks. I tried to remind him of the surprise, but he told Chloe that I said how great she's doing, so then Chloe said I've been a big help training her, and he called me a terrific person. And, you know, a mutual admiration society is nice, but I wanted to hear the surprise, or at least I thought I did.

He said he decided not to hire a guy to run the place after all and he told me, "Meet your new manager," meaning Chloe! A girl he just hired a week ago. And I know exactly why he chose her.

I was still furious when I came home, this time without the books or anything else. Let Chloe deal with that.

Jack kept putting his foot in his mouth, until he left the room to make the salad for dinner. Chrissy and I sat on the couch and she offered me sympathy. I told her the embarrassing story of when I was a high school freshman and the Geography teacher asked the class to locate the Great American Flatlands. Every boy pointed at me. I blossomed a bit later, but I was eventually more flat-chested than my younger sisters. And there's Chloe going around with her lowcut tops, showing off what she's got. How can I compete?

Chrissy and I talked about how society brainwashes all of us, boys and girls, men and women. I picked up the magazine on top of the wicker table and pointed out all the busty women in ads. And I'm sure that if Jack had been asked to pose with some built blonde, he wouldn't have passed up on the nude modeling job, integrity or not.

I had a headache so I went in the bedroom and tried to take a nap. I gave up after a couple minutes because I heard an argument in the living room. It turned out to be between the Ropers, over her having a facelift. Mrs. Roper had left behind a different magazine, about plastic surgery. And, OK, I'm tempted. Chrissy thinks I'm crazy, but she's got a perfect figure. Maybe Mother Nature needs a little help in my case.

I didn't even bothering calling in sick. I knew Chloe would be upset about having to handle the flower shop by herself, but too bad. Maybe I can find a better job once I have a better figure.

I was able to schedule a consultation today. I figure it doesn't hurt to get more information.

Oh, the doctor will see me now. Wish me luck.

  


Sunday, September 25, 1977

Both Jack and I have had unexpected recent developments in our work lives, no pun intended.

When I got home on Thursday, I showed Chrissy the sample photos (with the women's eyes blocked out) of bust jobs. The differences were dramatic, to put it mildly. I didn't know if I'd go for something that extreme, but going from 34 to 36 or 38 might be nice.

Chrissy encouraged me to think it over more, so I went in the bedroom, took off my jacket, and stuffed my blouse with socks. You should've seen Jack trying not to look when I returned to the living room, and his reaction when I handed them to him to "hold while I took a shower."

I'd undressed but hadn't started the water when I heard the doorbell ring. After a minute, Chrissy called to me that my manager was there. I threw on my robe and went back to the living room. I figured she'd come to fire me because I didn't show up for work. But she was quitting herself!

Mr. Compton invited her over to his apartment to "go over some forms," starting with hers. And I guess she hadn't realized what a letch he was, or she thought he was harmless. She said men make assumptions about her because of her build, and she actually said she wishes she had my figure, because men would take her seriously. I didn't point out that Compton keeps patting my butt. I knew what she meant, that my body isn't the first thing men think of when they think of me.

She asked me to tell Compton she doesn't want to play. She thanked me for teaching her so much, and I thanked her. This wasn't a lesson I was looking for, but I needed it. My roommates gave me kind _I told you so_ looks, and I said I'll stay "small but sincere." And, OK, I'm not sure I could've afforded plastic surgery anyway.

Jack gave me a hug and said that men should "learn to ignore the body." Then he thumped his chest and said, "And you girls should learn to ignore my body." He claimed we've been undressing him with our eyes. Well, not really, except, well, I'll get to that.

I talked to Compton on Friday, not just about Chloe but about me. "Mr. Compton, it shouldn't matter what kind of body an employee has."

"You're absolutely right, Janet. And so I'm giving you the job of manager, even though you don't have what all my other managers have."

What could I do but thank him? And I gave him a reluctant laugh when he said, "You can pick Chloe's replacement. You don't have to hire someone built, but I'll give you a bonus if you do."

I took more work home but at least I'll be paid more soon. (My raise officially starts on Monday.) I changed into a comfortable jersey and jeans when I got home and then I got set up on the little wicker table. When Chrissy came home, I updated her and she congratulated me. I was showing her a sales graph I'd made when Jack came home.

He didn't have his encyclopedia case with him. He said another day with Morris Morris would drive him "mad mad." But now he has a part-time job as a waiter at the Pizza Paradise. Yeah, I hope he gets a discount.

Chrissy, to both our surprise, said she thought Jack should've stuck with modeling. Then she showed me a magazine she got from a girl in her office. It was called _Living Love_ and she opened it right to the centerfold. She said, "Well, Janet, I think Jack looks terrific."

My eyes widened and I exclaimed, "Carumba!" I mean, I've never seen a naked man before, even in a magazine, and the idea that this might be Jack!

Jack insisted it wasn't him but Chrissy said that, although the face was shadowy, those were Jack's feet and knees. I thought the waist looked like his. And she was right that the hairy chest looked like Jack's.

For someone who claimed he never posed for the magazine, Jack was acting awfully guilty. He grabbed the magazine from Chrissy and we tried to get it back. He ended up ripping out the centerfold and flushing it down the toilet that Mr. Roper had unclogged the day he had the argument with his wife about plastic surgery. (No, she's not going through with it either.) Chrissy and I joked about whether _Living Love_ was still on the newstand.

I'm of course wildly curious, but this isn't exactly helping me to not think about Jack's body. Am I no better than Mr. Compton? Well, at least I see Jack as a person. OK, a person with a nice body.


	16. September 30 to October 2, 1977

Friday, September 30, 1977

Jack and Chrissy are both out on dates tonight. Yeah, I probably won't date for awhile, until I catch up on the work I'm bringing home. Not that I've met anyone lately, not counting Scott, and it would be unethical for me to date him.

On Monday, I interviewed a bunch of applicants for assistant and he was the most qualified, a bright Botany student at UCLA. And, OK, he's nice-looking, with a wonderful body, which means I technically qualify for Compton's bonus, since my boss didn't specify that it had to be a woman. Yes, it'll be as distracting as living with Jack, but I've managed that for over three months. Anyway, Scott is a senior, so even if he weren't my employee, he's a little young for me (two years younger). He can only work this semester because next semester he's got to prepare for graduation. Still, that gets the shop through the next three months and by then I should've straightened out the mess Murphy left.

Jack is meeting a new girl at the Regal Beagle, Linda or Laura or Lana or something like that. I haven't met her yet and she probably won't stick around long enough for me to. (That I met Veronica was just bad timing.)

I also haven't yet met Lloyd Cross, Chrissy's new man. And he's definitely a man, not a boy. He's got to be at least forty, because she said they were talking about going to a disco and he joked about doing the Twist. Plus, in the picture she showed me, he's got a little gray and a few wrinkles. I was surprised by the age difference, when I feel like an older woman around Scott. I know, her relationships don't last any longer than Jack's, but I do worry a little. Well, I worry when she goes out with guys our age, too.

I don't know if we'll be able to talk about it this weekend. She's invited me to go to San Diego overnight tomorrow for her friend Judy Hogan's bridal shower. They went to high school together but stayed in touch even after Judy moved south from Fresno. Sue Brigman, from Chrissy's office, the one who had the copy of _Living Love_ , knows Judy, too, so she's driving us down.

I do feel guilty about going away when I've got all this take-home work, but Chrissy convinced me I need a break and should have some fun with the girls. I also feel guilty about leaving poor Jack on his own. I mean, obviously he won't starve, and it's for less than twenty-four hours, but he keeps talking about how lonely he'll be.

"If it gets real bad, Hon, you can always drop in on the Ropers," I said before he headed down to the Beagle tonight. (I've started using little terms of endearment for him lately, but like I do for Chrissy. I am fond of him, and he knows I don't mean it flirtatiously, although affectionately.)

He pouted and said, "They're not as cute as you two."

Knowing Jack, he'll have another date lined up by the time we leave.

  


Sunday, October 2, 1977

Chrissy had to go to later church services than usual because we got back from San Diego this morning. And then we had to deal with the messes that Jack made during our brief absence.

He played Mr. Lonely before we left yesterday afternoon. Like, he said he'd talk to my plants while we were gone, since he wouldn't have anyone else to talk to.

The shower was fun. I didn't know Judy, but she liked the Crock-Pot Chrissy and I gave her. She's marrying a wealthy, handsome architect, so it was hard to think of what she could possibly need. But she seemed nice and didn't seem to mind that Chrissy had succeeded in her plan to "show up at the shower looking better than she does." 

Chrissy packed so much! I just took the bare minimum, since I wasn't trying to impress anyone. Chrissy couldn't even close her suitcase, especially with Jack being a know-it-all about packing, just because he's been in the Navy. I may not have gone anywhere except cross-country once, but I understand science and leverage, particularly from working in a flower shop.

Jack carried Chrissy's suitcase down to Sue's car, but I helped her with it up the stairs when we returned, since my little overnight case was no burden. Then we looked around and saw that the living room was in shambles, at least as bad as the aftermath after Eleanor's wedding reception. There was even a bra on the floor!

Jack didn't answer when I called, and he wasn't in the kitchen. Chrissy said he might still be asleep, so I knocked and then looked in. I quickly shut the door, after seeing him in bed with someone! I mean, they weren't doing anything but literally sleeping together, but still. Whoever it was was covered up with the sheet and I didn't want to know, except I kind of did. Jack had his arm draped over the mysterious figure, but I doubted all they'd done was snuggle.

I suggested to Chrissy that we unpack, but she was understandably curious. She opened the door and was just as shocked as I was. Well, more, because I think she doesn't fully realize that he is like any other man, with a man's needs. And I don't know if I was upset because I was jealous, or that it was in our home, or if just felt wrong for any of us to go to bed with anyone here.

Chrissy pointed out that Jack does pay one-third of the rent and this is his home, too. She also said we don't own him, which reminded me of when he went out with Roper's niece, Karen. And he's a "consulting adult," as she put it. We were going to clean up the living room and try not to think about it, but we couldn't help wondering who he had in his room. And after all, it was his party, let him deal with the mess.

We agreed to confront Jack and tell him to get his guest out of the apartment. We gave him one minute and we'd wait in the kitchen, to respect their privacy. (Not that we might not eavesdrop from there.) Jack was barely awake but hopefully we got through to him. 

We waited three minutes and didn't hear anything.

"Do you think the coast is clear?" Chrissy asked.

"She better not still be in bed with him," I said.

We went back into the living room and were surprised and amused to see Mr. Roper, of all people, creeping shoeless out of Jack's bedroom! He pretended he was testing a loose floorboard in the living room. Chrissy and I couldn't help laughing, and I told him we saw him coming out of Jack's room. Then his wife showed up, worried because she'd just realized he hadn't been in bed all night.

Mr. Roper told Mrs. Roper that he slept on our couch, and he might've gotten away with that if Jack hadn't come out (fully dressed now except for shoes) and gave him the wallet he left in Jack's bed. I pulled Chrissy into our bedroom so the three of them could talk in relative privacy, although she wanted to stay and hear Mr. Roper's explanation. And, OK, we eavesdropped and tried not to giggle.

He told her that he came upstairs to complain about the loud party but then he accepted three drinks and passed out in Jack's bed. When Jack said he won't tell anyone, Chrissy dashed in to say that neither would we. I yanked her back into our room. But when Celise, the busty redheaded waitress from the Regal Beagle, dropped by because she left something at the apartment, and she said she couldn't get over how Jack and Mr. Roper were carrying on in front of everyone last night, Chrissy and I both had to go in the living room and hear about it.

Mr. Roper definitely didn't want to hear it, so he went in the kitchen. Jack followed, to talk to him.

Mrs. Roper encouraged Celise to tell us all about it.

"Well, the party was in full swing and the music was playing. Oh, sorry for all the noise, Mrs. Roper."

"I slept through it, since I took a sleeping pill. It sounds like I missed a lot of fun."

"Well, your husband was the life of the party."

"My Stanley?"

"Yeah, see the music was mostly instrumentals and he said, 'In my day, songs had lyrics, and you could understand them.' " It was a pretty good impression, but he's easy to imitate.

"That sounds like Stanley all right."

"And then he started telling us about how he loves _Name That Tune_ and he hummed a few notes and had us guess." She demonstrated.

"What about Jack and Mr. Roper carrying on?" I asked.

"Yeah, what about that?" Chrissy asked eagerly.

"Well, Jack started showing his dance moves to the tunes. And just as the party started to sag, Jack and Mr. Roper surprised everybody by—"

Then Mr. Roper and Jack returned from the kitchen. It turned out what the two "crazies" did was perform a very cute rendition of "I'm a Little Teapot," the only song Mr. Roper knows all the words to. And they kept singing it all night long.

She found the earring she lost when Mr. Roper nibbled her ear. I'm sure he preferred finding out he did that than whatever he imagined he did in Jack's bed, no matter what hot water he might be in with his wife. But it turned out he was then thinking about something else: Jack had come out to him as straight! He said that if that was true, he'd have to kick Jack out, but he concluded that Jack did it to protect him. We were all so relieved when the Ropers left, but then I looked around and said, "You may've gotten Mr. Roper off the hook, Buddy, but you still threw a wild party while we were gone."

"I swear I'll clean it up after I make you two a delicious breakfast."

"I don't think that's enough, do you, Janet?"

"Nah, I want a footrub."

"Oo, me, too."

"I called dibs on first."

"Lie down, Janet."

My eyes popped. "What?"

"It's easier if you lie down on the couch with your feet in my lap."

"Oh, right." I wanted the massage but I was also a little nervous, because you know how Jack gets to me. Still, with Chrissy in the room and waiting her turn, it couldn't go too far.

He really is good at footrubs, as I had a feeling he'd be, but it was "only one foot to a customer."

While Chrissy was waiting, she found the misplaced bra (which was much too small for Celise) and asked Jack if he'd figured out who it belonged to. He said he'd ride through the kingdom until he found the girl it fits and he'd marry her. Then he galloped around the living room until he stubbed his toe, and Chrissy and I both gave him a footrub.

After her massage and our breakfast, Chrissy headed off to church, and then Jack went downstairs to pay the rent and "tease Mr. Roper." That man, I swear! And he's not getting out of cleaning up from the party, but I'll probably help.


	17. October 14-16, 1977

Friday, October 14, 1977

Now I'm really worried about Chrissy and Lloyd.

They've been dating for weeks, but I still hadn't met him until last night, when Chrissy had him over for a late supper. Yes, she cooked, badly by the smell of it, although I know no man would date Chrissy for home-cooked meals. (Or, OK, me either.) Jack and I were playing Scrabble in the living room while she was in the kitchen. He asked me about Lloyd, but I honestly didn't know much, other than he's a businessman she met at the supermarket, when she dropped the liver and he picked it up, yeah, like a handkerchief.

I answered the door when Lloyd arrived, and he was very nice-looking and well-dressed, smooth and charming. He said, "Chrissy didn't tell me you were beautiful," which is corny, but, hey, he's older, he's allowed.

He and Jack definitely did not hit it off. Jack made fun of Lloyd's last name and age, while Lloyd apparently thinks Jack is gay, because he thinks cooking school is like dressmaking. (Maybe Chrissy told Lloyd that Jack is gay, just to explain living with a man. I've thought of doing that myself, but I worry it'll backfire, like when I pretended Jack was my brother.)

I dragged Jack down to the Beagle, where I updated him about my job. Scott is working out really well as my assistant and, yes, we're keeping it purely professional. I've started to emerge from the mess that Murphy left, which is why I could relax and play Scrabble on a weeknight, rather than deal with a mountain of paperwork.

I could see Jack wasn't really listening, so I asked if I was boring him. He said he was just worried about Chrissy.

I asked if he was jealous. I was teasing, but I do wonder sometimes. He's been seeing Linda Schedeen pretty regularly, but that doesn't mean he's not interested in Chrissy.

He denied his jealousy and said he just doesn't like Lloyd's type, "charming, good-looking, successful." I teased that I always thought that opposites attract.

I suggested that since we had to stay out of the apartment (Chrissy had not been at all subtle about wanting us to leave, and she had booked the apartment under the Twenty-Four Hours' Notice Rule), we may as well see a movie. He suggested _Lust in the Dust_ , but I was not going to see a dirty movie, especially with Jack.

The Ropers came in and Mr. Roper was nice enough to buy us each a beer. It turned out he was buttering us up so that he could try to sell Jack his car. It's a broken-down old Chevy and Mrs. Roper discouraged us from buying it. I remember it and Karen overheating when Jack took them out, the night he got my cameo out of hock.

While Mr. Roper went to pay for the drinks, I mentioned Lloyd's amazing Maserati. Mrs. Roper said she knows Lloyd, and his wife!

When she went to get a refill on her gin, Jack asked me if Chrissy knows Lloyd is married. I said of course not. Then we both ran out and home.

Chrissy and Lloyd were kissing on the couch when Jack and I came in. We turned on the lights, blew out the candle, and got out the Scrabble board. Lloyd left, with kisses and an agreement to meet Chrissy tonight at the Beagle.

Chrissy was furious with us, as I would've been if she and Jack had deliberately scared off one of my dates. (The thing with Alex was different.)

Then Jack told her that Lloyd is married. She didn't want to believe it, but we told her what Mrs. Roper said. I felt terrible breaking her heart, because she's so sweet and trusting, but it was better that she knew before it went any further. Or so I thought then.

She cried on our shoulders before going to bed, and I could hear her crying off and on the rest of the night. I wish I could think of a way to comfort her, but none of my friends back home in Speedway ever went through anything like this, and Eleanor knew enough about men to spot a married one from a mile off. And, you know, I honestly haven't dated that much, even in Santa Monica.

She still went to work and seemed all right when she came home, although more subdued than usual.

"What are you going to do about Lloyd?" I asked.

"Meet him at seven at the Regal Beagle."

"Chrissy, he's married!"

"I know, Jack. But he doesn't know I know."

She went down there in a sexy, off-the-shoulder, turquoise dress. I was worried about her, but Jack said that if she wasn't back in an hour, we'd go to the Beagle ourselves. I hoped she was just dressed to kill to tell off Lloyd, but I worried that in an hour he might've taken her to a motel to "talk things over" in privacy.

To distract both of us, Jack made some kind of pastry with cream on top. It was delicious, but I was still worried about poor Chrissy. Then she came home early and told us that Lloyd has been divorced for over a year. And she pushed Jack's face gently into his cream puff. Chagrined, Jack went to clean off his face.

While he was out of the room, I apologized and asked Chrissy if she minds that Lloyd was married, but she compared him to our second-hand radio, in a good way.

When Jack came back to apologize, she said she's going away with Lloyd for the weekend. Jack got angry, even though Chrissy swore it's for a business conference, since he needs a secretary. Jack went out for fresh air, so I tried to talk to Chrissy, both before and during her packing for the weekend. First I told her I don't like to interfere but she's too trusting. She said even if it's not just for business, it's her affair, so to speak.

She went in the bedroom and changed into a turtleneck and slacks, bringing out her suitcase and as many outfits as she brought for Judy's shower last weekend. "Janet, can you help me?"

"Well, I think you should tell Lloyd—"

"No, I mean with packing. You're better at it than I am."

"Well, fold first before you put things in."

So we folded and I waited a couple minutes to bring up Lloyd again. Then she had me go get her pale pink dress and matching vest from the dresser. When I came back, I tried to get Chrissy to face that Lloyd might really mean business, not just business. She said that in all the time that she and Lloyd have been going out, Lloyd has never even laid a finger on her. Maybe not, but their kissing looked pretty serious last night. And I brought up my experience with Jerry Divucci a few months ago.

Jack came home and for some reason wanted Chrissy to go for a ride with him in Roper's car, even though she knows nothing about cars. I was puzzled when they left, but maybe he's taking Chrissy for a drive so he can talk some sense into her.

Anyway, I had to update you now, although I guess I'll have plenty of privacy to write this weekend, with Chrissy with Lloyd in San Francisco. Unless Jack talks her out of it I mean. She plans to leave in the morning. I'd unpack her suitcase, but she'd just make me repack it. And if I hid her suitcase, Lloyd would probably buy her a whole travel wardrobe and luggage. It's enough for me to miss her underemployed boyfriend, Goofy, who seems so harmless now.

  


Sunday, October 16, 1977

Chrissy returned in tears again on Friday, but this time it was because Jack drove her over to the home Lloyd shares with his pregnant wife and two children. The house is for sale and Jack pretended to be a prospective buyer. Poor Mrs. Cross doesn't have a clue and Chrissy didn't tell her. She did dump tea on Lloyd's head, as she spilled wine on him earlier in the evening. She was more angry than sad after it was definitely over, and she swore she's through with men, although she might make an exception for Robert Redford. (But, now that I think of it, he's as old as Lloyd and has been married almost twenty years.) 

As for Jack, he pointed out that if she'd married Lloyd, she'd be Chrissy Cross. I'm just glad things are back to normal around here.


	18. October 22 to November 1, 1977

Saturday, October 22, 1977

I am lying in a strange bed, alone. And it's all Mr. Roper's fault.

This morning, Chrissy and I were doing yoga in the living room. Jack was in his know-it-all mode and acted like this isn't real exercise, but he got stuck in the lotus position when I showed him. It was pretty funny, especially when Linda called and I asked if I should tell her he was all tied up. Anyway, they made plans for tomorrow night, but I really wish they were going out tonight.

After Chrissy and I unfolded Jack, Mrs. Roper dropped by to say that her husband would be out of town on an overnight business trip. The thing is, she hates being alone at night, jumping at every little noise. I suggested she have a friend stay with her, so she thought I was offering. And she left before I could explain.

I didn't have any plans for tonight, but I hadn't really wanted to hang out with Mrs. Roper for hours, much as I like her. Also, this is the first time that Jack and Chrissy have been alone together all night. I still don't fully trust him with her, and I haven't forgotten her low melting point. Yes, he's been seeing a lot of Linda lately, but that doesn't mean that the sexual tension is gone in our apartment. Chrissy says she doesn't need a chaperone, but isn't that what she asked me to be four months ago?

I recommended she not "be herself" tonight, in the sense of leading him on without intending to. I don't know if that would stop Jack but there's nothing I can do about it now. Anyway, after four hours of dominoes (I owe Mrs. Roper 1700 matchsticks), and lots of her anecdotes, including about her mother the dressmaker making all the bridesmaids' dresses in black satin, she's putting her hair in curlers and getting ready to share her bed with me. (I would've slept in the guest room, where Karen slept, but Mrs. Roper would've been too scared.) I only hope there's no bed-sharing going on in my apartment, but if there is, it won't be as innocent as when Jack slept with Mr. Roper.

  


Sunday, October 23, 1977

When I got home this morning, after Mrs. Roper insisted on making breakfast for me, I saw the remains of what Jack had described as "a special dinner for two," including an empty wine bottle, on the table. When Chrissy came in, she seemed listless and distracted, hardly listening to my stories about my "exciting evening" with Mrs. Roper. Chrissy refused to talk about it, so I talked to Jack, who made it sound like he had a wonderful night.

When Jack was in the kitchen, getting breakfast started, I talked to Chrissy in the living room. She was reluctant to talk about her "humiliating" night, but I had to talk. And I'd kick Jack out if I had to, fond as I've grown of him. If he got Chrissy drunk and took advantage of her, there's no way I'd let him stay.

But the humiliation turned out to be that he didn't make a pass at her. Not that she wanted to do anything with him (she says), but she felt insulted that he didn't try. She actually thought she was losing her sex appeal, which is ridiculous.

I got angry at Jack about that instead, which is also ridiculous. I waited until I calmed down and then I had to interrupt his phone call with Linda. He asked her to call back in a bit.

I explained to him that Chrissy knows how strong he comes on with women, and she thought she wasn't worth the effort. He told me it wouldn't be an effort with her.

When Chrissy came back with one of Jack's latest pastries (sort of a chocolate éclair but round), he explained why he didn't hit on her last night. She was mad I told him she was upset, but she was actually happy when he said that if he weren't getting serious with Linda lately, he'd have "attacked Chrissy like a mad dog." I don't think it's that she wants him to get violent with her, but more that she wants to feel desired.

So I guess everything worked out, but then the phone rang just as Mrs. Roper dropped by. Jack took the call in the kitchen, while Mrs. Roper explained that her husband has to stay in Apache Springs a couple more days for his business trip. I guess desert real estate is more complicated than it seems. Anyway, she wanted me to sleep over again, and I said OK, even though I'm not crazy about dominoes.

Chrissy said it'd be all right, since Jack has Linda, but after he came back into the living room when Mrs. Roper was gone, he said Linda has found another guy.

The only solution is to send Jack downstairs the next couple nights. Not to sleep with Mrs. Roper (even though Mr. Roper thinks Jack is gay), but to sleep in the guest room. I think she'll be all right with the switch, since, even in another room, Jack could protect her better than I could. (Although I'm better at Judo.) He's not thrilled about the switch, but I pointed out that he'll be free now that he doesn't have plans with Linda.

  


Tuesday, October 25, 1977

It turns out that Mr. Roper got arrested! He was detained for 48 hours. Something about a wild party at the hotel he was staying at. As for Jack, he's gotten really good at dominoes. Now I owe him 3000 matchsticks.

  


Sunday, October 30, 1977

The three of us went to a Halloween party Friday night, dressed as part of Fleetwood Mac. Since both Stevie Nicks and Christine McVie are short blondes, Chrissy and I just did a coin toss, and she got to be Stevie, with all the scarves and everything. Jack was Mick Fleetwood, with a fake beard and ponytail, and those two little dangly balls below his crotch, which got much reaction of course. I blushed, laughed, and took a lot of pictures of him and Chrissy clowning for the camera, including posing like the _Rumours_ album cover. I thought of how much had changed since the party I went to last year, where Eleanor and Ted had that big, messy break-up. (She recently sent me pictures of the baby, so big now at four months.)

We had to take the bus, as usual. But that's about to change.

Chrissy and I slept in yesterday morning, but Jack wanted to get out to the farmer's market early, since he'd promised to buy Mrs. Roper an oregano plant, before hitting the grocery store. And when he stopped in downstairs to give the plant to her, he found out that Mr. Roper is selling his car for $200. He convinced us that, even though it's not a great car, it'd be worth pooling our money together.

I'm using what's left of my hiring-Scott bonus money and some other savings. Chrissy has money her father sent her for "emergencies," while Jack will cash his latest check from Pizza Paradise. Hopefully the insurance and everything won't set us back too far. And at least we'll save on bus fare.

Anyway, we'll go down to the Ropers' after Chrissy gets back from church. Wow, my first car! Well, one-third of one anyway.

  


Tuesday, November 1, 1977

We were swamped at work yesterday. You'd be surprised how many people want last-minute floral arrangements for Halloween, even on a weekday.

And then I had to catch the bus home as usual. Yeah, about the car. When we went downstairs Sunday afternoon, Mrs. Roper very strongly disapproved of the deal, one, because the car is "an old clunker," and two, because her husband had promised the car to Wagstaff, the used car dealer. (Larry told Jack at the Beagle last night that Wagstaff is one of his dealership's biggest competitors, "and an honest but smart used-car-salesman is the worst kind of competitor.") She said Mr. Roper shouldn't go back on his deal.

So Jack had the three of us pool the money we had on us, which came to an extra $12.60, which gave us the winning bid.

When we got back to our apartment, Jack said he'd take the car in for a lube job, but first we'd have to figure out how we'd share the car. His cooking school is downtown and Chrissy's office is in Westwood. I'm in Santa Monica, but sometimes the flower shop is too far to walk to and from, especially after a long day. It would be tricky because his classes get out before work does for us, and then of course he's got his job at the pizzeria, where the hours are irregular.

While Jack took the car to the nearest garage, I read and Chrissy worked on the slacks she's been hemming, for four weeks! She really messed up, but I fixed them for her later. (I can sew much better than I can cook, and I do Jack's buttons when he asks nicely.)

Jack wasn't gone long, since the mechanic told him to not bother changing the oil, which was the only thing holding the transmission together. The brakes, shock absorbers, and water pump are also bad. It would cost $300 for repairs!

Chrissy and I were mad at Jack, since it was his idea. And then Mr. Roper came by and he said he worried that something might go wrong with the car, so he offered to take it back and give us our money plus an extra $100, "for our trouble"! Jack and I were happy to go along with that, but the minister's daughter felt guilty. The three of us argued about it in the kitchen and, because she's so honest and trusting herself, she couldn't believe that Roper would sell us the car without knowing what was wrong with it. And she insisted we should tell him, just in case, or it was no deal.

Our landlord feigned surprise when Jack reluctantly told him what the mechanic said. And Roper still wanted the deal, which should've made us more suspicious, but we were just relieved that we weren't stuck with a lemon. He did ask us not to tell Mrs. Roper about the extra $100, because she'd think he's too generous (which again, I should've questioned), and we should call it "a very equitable split."

Well, Mrs. Roper came upstairs with Wagstaff, who gave Mr. Roper a check for $1200! It turned out he thought it was a '57 Chevy, when Jack knew it was a '58. See, the '57 Chevy is a classic, the '58 not so much, especially one in that condition. And, yeah, Roper was trying to swindle everyone, including his wife.

After the Ropers and Wagstaff left, Chrissy and I split the $312 (Roper had rounded down), putting it down our tops. When Jack tried to grab for it, we bit his hands.

We did give him his share later, but we decided the best use of the extra $100 was to buy Mrs. Roper a coat she's been eying for awhile. We wrapped it up real nice, with a note from her "loving husband Stanley." We presented the present to him last night when he stopped by, wanting his $100 back. But he took the gift instead when Jack suggested we tell her about the "equitable split."

I think we'll wait until we can afford a much better car before we try again. There are worse things than taking the bus.


End file.
